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^‘Sim, . . . have you heard anything about Williams buying 

the Smalley house?” 


[Page 13] 


THE 

DEPOT MASTER 


By JOSEPH C. LINCOLN 


"Author of Cap’n Eri/* "Mr. Pratt,** ‘‘Partners 
of the Tide,** etc. 



With Four Illustrations 
By HOWARD HEATH 


A. L. BURT COMPANY 

Publishers New York 







Copyright, 1910, by 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Published May, 1910 



Copyright, 1907, by The Phillips Publishing Company 
Copyright, 1901, 1904, 1907, 1909, by Ainslee Magazine Company 
Copyright, 1907, by P. F. Collier and Son 
Copyright, 1907, 1909, 1910, by The Ridgway Company 
Copyright, 1907, by The Frank A. Munsey Company 


Printed in the United States of America 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


CHAPTER I 

AT THE DEPOT 

M r. SIMEON PHINNEY emerged from 
the side door of his residence and paused 
a moment to light his pipe in the lee of 
the lilac bushes. Mr. Phinney was a man of var- 
ious and sundry occupations, and his sign, nailed 
to the big silver-leaf in the front yard, enumer- 
ated a few of them. “ Carpenter, Well Driver, 
Building Mover, Cranberry Bogs Seen to with 
Care and Dispatch, etc., etc.,” so read the sign. 
The house was situated In “ Phinney’s Lane,” 
the crooked little byway off “ Cross Street,” be- 
tween the “ Shore Road ” at the foot of the slope 
and the “ Hill Boulevard ” — formerly “ Higgins’s 
Roost ” — at the top. From the Phinney gate the 
view was extensive and, for the most part, wet. 
The hill descended sharply, past the “ Shore 
Road,” over the barren fields and knolls covered 
with bayberry bushes and “ poverty grass,” to the 
yellow sand of the beach and the gray, weather- 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


beaten fish-houses scattered along it. Beyond was 
the bay, a glimmer in the sunset light. 

Mrs. Phinney, in the kitchen, was busy with 
the supper dishes. Her husband, wheezing com- 
fortably at his musical pipe, drew an ancient silver 
watch from his pocket and looked at its dial. 
Quarter past six. Time to be getting down to the 
depot and the post office. At least a dozen male 
citizens of East Harniss were thinking that very 
thing at that very moment. It was a community 
habit of long standing to see the train come in and 
go after the mail. The facts that the train bore 
no passengers in whom you were intimately inter- 
ested, and that you expected no mail made little 
difference. If you were a man of thirty or older, 
you went to the depot or the “ club,” just as your 
wife or sisters went to the sewing circle, for socia- 
bility and mild excitement. If you were a single 
young man you went to the post office for the same 
reason that you attended prayer meeting. If you 
were a single young lady you went to the post office 
and prayer meeting to furnish a reason for the 
young man. 

Mr. Phinney, replacing his watch in his pocket, 
meandered to the sidewalk and looked down the 
hill and along the length of the “ Shore Road.” 
Beside the latter highway stood a little house, 
painted a spotless white, its window blinds a vivid 
green. In that house dwelt, and dwelt alone. Cap- 
tain Solomon Berry, Sim Phinney’s particular 
2 


AT THE DEPOT 


friend. Captain Sol was the East Hamiss depot 
master and, from long acquaintance, Mr. Phinney 
knew that he should be through supper and ready 
to return to the depot, by this time. The pair 
usually walked thither together when the evening 
meal was over. 

But, except for the smoke curling lazily from 
the kitchen chimney, there was no sign of life about 
the Berry house. Either Captain Sol had already 
gone, or he was not yet ready to go. So Mr. 
Phinney decided that waiting was chancey, and set 
out alone. 

He climbed Cross Street to where the ‘‘ Hill 
Boulevard,” abiding place of East Harniss’s sum- 
mer aristocracy, bisected it, and there, standing on 
the corner, and consciously patronizing the spot 
where he so stood, was Mr. Ogden Hapworth 
Williams, no less. 

Mr. Williams was the village millionaire, pa- 
tron, and, in a gentlemanly way, “ boomer.” His 
estate on the Boulevard was the finest in the county, 
and he, more than any one else, was responsible for 
the “ buying up ” by wealthy people from the city 
of the town’s best building sites, the spots command- 
ing fine marine sea views,” to quote from Abner 
Payne, local real estate and insurance agent. His 
own estate was fine enough to be talked about from 
one end of the Cape to the other and he had 
bought the empty lot opposite and made it into a 
miniature park, with flower beds and gravel walks, 
3 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


though no one but he or his might pick the flowers 
or tread the walks. He had brought on a wealthy 
friend from New York and a cousin from Chicago, 
and they, too, had bought acres on the Boulevard 
and erected palatial “ cottages ’’ where once were 
the houses of country people. Local cynics sug- 
gested that the sign on the East Harniss railroad 
station should be changed to read “ Williamsburg.’* 
“ He owns the place, body and soul,” said they. 

As Sim Phinney climbed the hill the magnate, 
pompous, portly, and imposing, held up a signaling 
finger. “ Just as if he was hailin’ a horse car,” 
described Simeon afterward. 

‘‘ Phinney,” he said, “ come here, I want to 
speak to you.” 

The man of many trades obediently ap- 
proached. 

“ Good evenin’, Mr. Williams,” he ventured. 

“ Phinney,” went on the great man briskly, “ I 
want you to give me your figures on a house mov- 
ing deal. I have bought a house on the Shore 
Road, the one that used to belong to the — er — 
Smalleys, I believe.” 

Simeon was surprised. “ What, the old Smal- 
ley house? ” he exclaimed. “ You don’t tell me I ” 

“ Yes, it’s a fine specimen — so my wife says — 
of the pure Colonial, whatever that is, and I intend 
moving it to the Boulevard. I want your figures 
for the job.” 

The building mover looked puzzled. “ To 

4 


AT THE DEPOT 


the Boulevard? ” he said. “ Why, I didn’t know 
there was a vacant lot on the Boulevard, Mr. 
Williams.” 

‘‘ There isn’t now, but there will be soon. I 
have got hold of the hundred feet left from the 
old Seabury estate.” 

Mr. Phinney drew a long breath. Why! ” 
he stammered, “ that’s where Olive Edwards — her 
that was Olive Seabury — lives, ain’t it?” 

“ Yes,” was the rather impatient answer. 
“ She has been living there. But the place was 
mortgaged up to the handle and — ahem — the 
mortgage is mine now.” 

For an instant Simeon did not reply. He was 
gazing, not up the Boulevard in the direction of 
the “ Seabury place ” but across the slope of the 
hill toward the home of Captain Sol Berry, the 
depot master. There was a troubled look on 
his face. 

“Well?” inquired Williams briskly, “when 
can you give me the figures? They must be low, 
mind. No country skin games, you understand.” 

“Hey?” Phinney came out of his momen- 
tary trance. “ Yes, yes, Mr. Williams. They’ll 
be low enough. Times is kind of dull now and 
I’d like a movin’ job first-rate. I’ll give ’em to* 
you to-morrer. But — but Olive’ll have to move, 
won’t she? And where’s she goin’? ” 

“ She’ll have to move, sure. And the eyesore 
on that lot now will come down.” 

5 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


The “ eyesore ” was the four room building, 
combined dwelling and shop of Mrs. Olive Ed- 
wards, widow of “ Bill Edwards,’’ once a promis- 
ing young man, later town drunkard and ne’er-do- 
well, dead these five years, luckily for himself and 
luckier — in a way — for the wife who had stuck by 
him while he wasted her inheritance in a losing 
battle with John Barleycorn. At his death the 
fine old Seabury place had dwindled to a lone 
hundred feet of land, the little house, and a mort- 
gage on both. Olive had opened a “ notion 
store ” in her front parlor and had fought on, 
proudly refusing aid and trying to earn a living. 
She had failed. Again Phinney stared thought- 
fully at the distant house of Captain Sol. 

“ But Olive,” he said, slowly. “ She ain’t got 
no folks, has she? What’ll become of her? 
Where’ll she move to? ” 

‘‘ That,” said Mr. Williams, with a wave of 
a fat hand, “ is not my business. I am sorry for 
her, if she’s hard up. But I can’t be responsible if 
men will drink up their wives’ Qioney. Look out 
for number one; that’s business. I sha’n’t be un- 
reasonable with her. She can stay where she is 
until the new house Pve bought is moved to that 
lot. Then she must clear out. Pve told her that. 
She knows all about it. Well, good-by, Phinney. 
I shall expect your bid to-morrow. And, mind, 
don’t try to get the best of me, because you can’t 
do it.” 


6 


AT THE DEPOT 


He turned and strutted back up the Boulevard. 
Sim Phinney, pondering deeply and very grave, 
continued on his way, down Cross Street to Main 
— naming the village roads was another of the 
Williams’ improvements ” — and along that to 
the crossing, East Harniss’s business and social 
center at train times. 

The station — everyone called it “ decpo,” of 
course — was then a small red building, old and 
out of date, but scrupulously neat because of Cap- 
tain Berry’s rigid surveillance. Close beside it was 
the “ Boston Grocery, Dry Goods and General 
Store,” Mr. Beriah Higgins, proprietor. Beriah 
was postmaster and the post office was in his store. 
The male citizen of middle age or over, seeking op- 
portunity for companionship and chat, usually w6ht 
first to the depot, sat about in the waiting room 
until the train came in, superintended that function, 
then sojourned to the post office until the mail was 
sorted, returning later, if he happened to be a par- 
ticular friend of the depot master, to sit and smoke 
and yarn until Captain Sol announced that it was 
time to “ turn in.” 

When Mr. Phinney entered the little waiting 
room he found it already tenanted. Captain Sol 
had not yet arrived, but official authority was rep- 
resented by “ Issy ” McKay — his full name was 
Issachar Ulysses Grant McKay — a long-legged, 
freckled-faced, tow-headed youth of twenty, who, 
as usual, was sprawled along the settee by the wall, 
7 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


engrossed in a paper covered dime novel. “ Issy ” 
was a lover of certain kinds of literature and 
reveled in lurid fiction. As a youngster he had, at 
the age of thirteen, after a course of reading in the 
“ Deadwood Dick Library,” started on a pedes- 
trian journey to the Far West, where, being 
armed with home-made tomahawk and scalping 
knife, he contemplated extermination of the noble 
red man. A wrathful pursuing parent had col- 
lared the exterminator at the Bayport station, to 
the huge delight of East Harniss, young and old. 
Since this adventure Issy had been famous, in a 
way. 

He was Captain Sol Berry’s assistant at the 
depot. Why an assistant was needed was a much 
discussed question. Why Captain Sol, a retired 
seafaring man with money in the bank, should care 
to be depot master at ten dollars a week was an- 
other. The Captain himself said he took the place 
because he wanted to do something that was “ half 
way between a loaf and a job.” He employed an 
assistant at his own expense because he “ might 
want to stretch the loafin’ half.” And he hired 
Issy because — ^well, because “ most folks in East 
Harniss are alike and you can always tell about 
what they’ll say or do. Now Issy’s different. 
The Lord only knows what he* s likely to do, and 
that makes him interestin’ as a conundrum, to guess 
at. He kind of keeps my sense of responsibility 
from gettin’ mossy, Issy does.” 

8 


AT THE DEPOT 


“ Issy,” hailed Mr. Phinney, “ has the Cap’n 
got here yet? ” 

Issy answered not. The villainous floorwalker 
had just proffered matrimony or summary dis- 
charge to “ Flora, the Beautiful Shop Girl,” and 
pending her answer, the McKay mind had no 
room for trifles. 

“Issy!” shouted Simeon. “I say. Is’, 
Wake up, you foolhead! Has Cap’n Sol — ” 

“ No, he ain’t, Sim,” volunteered Ed Crocker. 
He and his chum, Cornelius Rowe, were seated 
in two of the waiting room chairs, their feet on 
two others. “ He ain’t got here yet. We was 
just talkin’ about him. You’ve heard about Olive 
Edwards, I s’pose likely, ain’t you? ” 

Phinney nodded gloomily. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ I’ve heard.” 

“ Well, it’s too bad,” continued Crocker. 
“ But, after all, it’s Olive’s own fault. She’d 
ought to have married Sol Berry when she had 
the chance. What she ever gave him the go-by 
for, after the years they was keepin’ comp’ny, is 
more’n I can understand.” 

Cornelius Rowe shook his head, with an air of 
wisdom. Captain Sol, himself, remarked once; 
“ I wonder sometimes the Almighty ain’t jealous 
of Cornelius, he knows so much and is so respon- 
sible for the runnin’ of all creation.” 

“Humph!” grunted Mr. Rowe. “There’s 
more to that business than you folks think. Olive 
2 9 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


didn’t notice Bill Edwards till Sol went off to sea 
and stayed two years and over. How do you 
know she shook Sol? You might just as well say 
he shook her. He always was stubborn as an off 
ox and cranky as a windlass. I wonder how he 
feels now, when she’s lost her last red and is goin’ 
to be drove out of house and home. And all on 
account of that fool ‘ mountain and Mahomet ’ 
business.” 

** Which? asked Mr. Crocker. 

** Never mind that, Cornelius,” put in Phinney, 
sharply. “ Why don’t you let other folks’ affairs 
alone? That was a secret that Olive told your 
sister and you’ve got no right to go blabbin’.” 

“ Aw, hush up, Sim I I ain’t tellin’ no secrets 
to anybody but Ed here, and he ain’t lived in East 
Harniss long or he’d know it already. The moun- 
tain and Mahomet? Why, them was the last 
words Sol and Olive had. ’Twas Sol’s stubborn- 
ness that was most to blame. That was his one 
bad fault. He would have his own way and he 
wouldn’t change. Olive had set her heart on goin’ 
to Washin’ton for their weddin’ tower. Sol 
wanted to go to Niagara. They argued a long 
time, and finally Olive says, ‘ No, Solomon, Pm 
not goin’ to give in this time. I have all the 
others, but it’s not fair and it’s not right, and no 
married life can be happy where one does all the 
sacrificin’. If you care for me you’ll do as I want 
now.’ 

lO 


n 


AT THE DEPOT 


“ And he laughs and says, ‘ All right, Pll sac- 
rifice after this, but you and me must see Niagara/ 
And she was sot and he was sotter, and at last 
they quarreled. He marches out of the door and 
says : ‘ Very good. When you’re ready to be sen- 
sible and change your mind, you can come to me.’ 
And says Olive, pretty white but firm : ‘No, Solo- 
mon, I’m right and you’re not. I’m afraid this 
time the mountain must come to Mahomet.’ That 
ended it. He went away and never come back, 
and after a long spell she give in to her dad and 
married Bill Edwards. Foolish? Well, now, 
wa^n^t it! ” 

“ Humph I ” grunted Crocker. “ She must 
have been a bom gump to let a smart man like 
him get away just for that.” 

“ There’s a good many born gumps not so far 
from here as her house,” interjected Phinney. 
“ You remember that next time you look in the 
glass, Ed Crocker. And — and — ^well, there’s no 
better friend of Sol Berry’s on earth than I am, 
but, so fur as their quarrel was concerned, if you 
ask me I’d have to say Olive was pretty nigh right.” 

“ Maybe — maybe,” declared the allwise Cor- 
nelius, “ but just the same if I was Sol Berry, and 
knew my old girl was likely to go to the poor- 
house, I’ll bet my conscience — ” 

“ S-ssh 1 ” hissed Crocker, frantically. Cornel- 
ius stopped in the middle of his sentence, whirled 
in his chair, and looked up. Behind him in the 
II 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


doorway of the station stood Captain Sol himself. 
The blue cap he always wore was set back on his 
head, a cigar tipped upward from the corner of 
his mouth, and there was a grim look in his eye 
and about the smooth shaven lips above the short, 
grayish-brown beard. 

“ Issy ” sprang from his settee and jammed 
the paper novel into his pocket. Ed Crocker’s 
sunburned face turned redder yet. Sim Phinney 
grinned at Mr. Rowe, who was very much 
embarrassed. 

“ Er — er — evenin’, Cap’n Sol,” he stammered. 
“ Nice, seasonable weather, ain’t it? Been a nice 
day.” 

“ Um,” grunted the depot master, knocking 
the ashes from his cigar. 

“ Just right for workin’ outdoor,” continued 
Cornelius. 

“ I guess it must be. I saw your wife rakin’ 
the yard this mornin’.” 

Phinney doubled up with a chuckle. Mr. 
Rowe swallowed hard. “ I — I told her I’d rake 
it myself soon’s I got time,” he sputtered. 

“ Um. Well, I s’pose she realized your time 
was precious. Evenin’, Sim, glad to see you.” 

He held out his hand and Phinney grasped it. 

“ Issy,” said Captain Sol, “ you’d better get 
busy with the broom, hadn’t you. It’s standin’ 
over in that corner and I wouldn’t wonder if it 
needed exercise. Sim, the train ain’t due for 


12 


AT THE DEPOT 


twenty minutes yet. That gives us at least three 
quarters of an hour afore it gets here. Come out- 
side a spell. I want to talk to you.” 

He led the way to the platform, around the 
corner of the station, and seated himself on the 
baggage truck. That side of the building, being 
furthest from the street, was out of view from 
the post office and “ general store.” 

“ What was It you wanted to talk about, Sol? ” 
asked Simeon, sitting down beside his friend on 
the truck. 

The Captain smoked In silence for a moment. 
Then he asked a question in return. 

“ Sim,” he said, “ have you heard anything 
about Williams buying the Smalley house? Is 
it true? ” 

Phinney nodded. “ Yup,” he answered, ‘‘ It’s 
true. Williams was just talkin’ to me and I know 
all about his buyin’ it and where it’s goln’.” 

He repeated the conversation with the great 
man. Captain Sol did not interrupt. He smoked 
on, and a frown gathered and deepened as he 
listened. 

“ Humph ! ” he said, when his friend had con- 
cluded. “Humph! Sim, do you have any Idea 
what — ^what Olive Seabury will do when she 
has to go ? ” 

Phinney glanced at him. It was the first 
time in twenty years that he had heard Solomon 
Berry mention the name of his former sweetheart. 

13 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


And even now he did not call her by her married 
name, the name of her late husband. 

“ No,” replied Simeon. “ No, Sol, I ain’t got 
the least idea. Poor thing ! ” 

Another interval. Then: “Well, Sim, find 
out if you can, and let me know. And,” turning 
his head and speaking quietly but firmly, “ don’t 
let anybody else know I asked.” 

“ Course I won’t, Sol, you know that. But 
don’t it seem awful mean turnin’ her out so? I 
wouldn’t think Mr. Williams would do such a 
thing.” 

His companion smiled grimly; “ I would,” he 
said. “ ‘ Business is business,’ that’s his motto. 
That and ‘ Look out for number one.’ ” 

“ Yes, he said somethin’ to me about lookin’ 
out for number one.” 

“Did he? Humph!” The Captain’s smile 
lost a little of its bitterness and broadened. He 
seemed to be thinking and to find amusement in the 
process. 

“ What you grinnin’ at? ” demanded Phinney. 

“ Oh, I was just rememberin’ how he looked 
out for number one the first — ^no, the second time 
I met him. I don’t believe he’s forgot it. May- 
be that’s why he ain’t quite so high and mighty to 
me as he is to the rest of you fellers. Ha 1 ha I 
He tried to patronize me when I first came back 
here and took this depot and I just smiled and 
asked him what the market price of johnny-cake 

14 


AT THE DEPOT 


was these days. He got red clear up to the brim 
of his tall hat. Humph! ^twas funny.” 

” The market price of johnny-cake! He must 
have thought you was loony.” 

“ No. I’m the last man he’d think was loony. 
You see I met him afore he came here to live 
at all.” 

“You did? Where?” 

“ Oh, over to Wellmouth. ’Twas the year 
afore I come back to East Harniss, myself, after 
my long stretch away from it. I never intended to 
see the Cape again, but I couldn’t stay away some- 
how. I’ve told you that much — how I went over 
to Wellmouth and boarded a spell, got sick of 
that, and, just to be doin’ somethin’ and not for 
the money, bought a catboat and took out sail- 
in’ parties from Wixon and Wingate’s summer 
hotel.” 

“ And you met Mr. Williams? Well, I snum 1 
Was he at the hotel? ” 

“ No, not exactly. I met him sort of casual 
this second time.” 

“ Second time ? Had you met him afore that ? ” 

“ Don’t get ahead of the yarn, Sim. It hap- 
pened this way: You see, I was cornin’ along 
the road between East Wellmouth and the Center 
when I run afoul of him. He was fat and shiny, 
and drivin’ a skittish horse hitched to a fancy 
^uggy* When he sighted me he hove to and 
hailed. 




THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ Here you ! ’ says he, in a voice as'-fat as the 
rest of him. ‘ Your name’s Berry, ain’t it.’ 

“ ‘ Yup,’ says I. 

“ ‘ Methusalum Berry or Jehoshaphat Berry or 
Sheba Berry, or somethin’ like that? Hey?’ he 
says. 

“ ‘ Well,’ says I, ‘ the last shot you fired comes 
nighest the bull’s eye. They christened me Solo- 
mon, but ’twa’n’t my fault ; I was young at the time 
and they took advantage.’ 

He grinned a kind of lopsided grin, like he 
had a lemon in his mouth, and commenced to cuss 
the horse for tryin’ to climb a pine tree. 

“ ‘ I knew ’twas some Bible outrage or other,’ 
he says. ‘ There’s more Bible names in this for- 
saken sand heap than there is Christians, a good 
sight. When I meet a man with a Bible name and 
chin whiskers I hang on to my watch. The feller 
that sets out to do me has got to have a better 
make up than that, you bet your life. Well, see 
here. King Sol ; can you run a gasoline launch ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, yes, I guess I can run ’most any of 
the everyday kinds,’ says I, pullin’ thoughtful at 
my own chin whiskers. This fat man had got me 
interested. He was so polite and folksy in his re- 
marks. Didn’t seem to stand on no ceremony, as 
you might say. Likewise there was a kind of 
familiar somethin’ about his face. I knew 
mighty well I’d never met him afore, and yet I 
seemed to have a floatin’ memory of him, same as 
i6 


AT THE DEPOT 


a chap remembers the taste of the senna and salts 
his ma made him take when he was little. 

“ ‘ All right,’ says he, sharp. ‘ Then you 
come around to my landin’ to-morrer mornin’ at 
eight o’clock prompt and take me out in my launch 
to the cod-fishin’ grounds. I’ll give you ten dol- 
lars to take me out there and back.’ 

“ ‘ Well,’ says I, ‘ ten dollars is a good price 

enough. Do I furnish ’ 

“ ‘ You furnish nothin’ except your grub,’ he 
interrupts. ‘ The launch’ll be ready and the lines 
and hooks and bait’ll be ready. My own man was 
to do the job, but he and I had a heart-to-heart talk 
just now and I told him where he could go and go 
quick. No smart Alec gets the best of me, even 
if he has got a month’s contract. You run that 
launch and put me on the fishin’ grounds. I pay 
you for that and bringin’ me back again. And 
I furnish my own extras and you can furnish yours. 
I don’t want any of your Y ankee bargainin’. See ? ’ 
“ I saw. There wa’n’t no real reason why I 
couldn'^’t take the job. ’Twas well along into 
September; the hotel was closed for the season; 
and about all I had on my hands just then was 
time. 

“ ‘ All right,’ says I, ‘ it’s a deal. If you’ll 

guarantee to have your launch ready, I ’ 

“ ‘ That’s my business,’ he says. ‘ It’ll be 
ready. If it ain’t you’ll get your pay just the same. 
To-morrer mornin’ at eight o’clock. And don’t 

17 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


you forget and be late. Gid-dap, you black- 
guard 1 ’ says he to the horse. 

“ ‘ Hold on, just a minute,’ I hollers, runnin’ 
after him. ‘ I don’t want to be curious nor nosey, 
you understand, but seems ’s if it might help me 
to be on time if I knew where your launch was 
goin’ to be and what your name was.’ 

“ He pulled up then. ‘ Humph I ’ he says, 
‘ if you don’t know my name and more about my 
private affairs than I do myself, you’re the only one 
in this county that don’t. My name’s Williams, 
and I live in what you folks call the Lathrop place 
over here toward Trumet. The launch is at my 
landin’ down in front of the house.’ 

“ He drove off then and I walked along 
thinkin’. I knew who he was now, of course. 
There was consider’ble talk when the Lathrop 
place was rented, and I gathered that the feller who 
hired it answered to the hail of Williams and 
was a retired banker, sufferin’ from an enlarged 
income and the diseases that go along with it. He 
lived alone up there in the big house, except for 
a cranky housekeeper and two or three servants. 
This was afore he got married, Sim; his wife’s 
tamed him a little. Then the yarns about his 
temper and language would have filled a log 
book. 

“ But all this was way to one side of the mark- 
buoy, so fur as I was concerned. I’d cruised with 
cranks afore and I thought I could stand this one 
i8 


AT THE DEPOT 


— ten dollars’ worth of him, anyhow. Bluster and 
big talk may scare some folks, but to me they’re 
like Aunt Hepsy Parker’s false teeth, the further 
off you be from ’em the more real they look. So 
the next mornin’ I was up bright and early and on 
my way over to the Lathrop landin’. 

“ The launch was there, made fast alongside 
the little wharf. Nice, slick-lookin’ craft she was, 
too, all varnish and gilt gorgeousness. Pd liked 
her better if she’d carried a sail, for it’s my ex- 
perience that canvas is a handy thing to have 
aboard in case of need; but she looked seaworthy 
enough and built for speed. 

“ While I was standin’ on the pier lookin’ 
down at her I heard footsteps and brisk remarks 
from behind the bushes on the bank, and here 
comes Williams, puffin’ and blowin’, followed by a 
sulky-lookin’ hired man totin’ a deckload of 
sweaters and ileskins, with a lunch basket on top. 
Williams himself wan’t carryin’ anything but his 
temper, but he hadn’t forgot none of that. 

“ ‘ Hello, Berry,’ says he to me. ‘ You are 
on time, ain’t you. Blessed if it ain’t a comfort to 
find somebody who’ll do what I tell ’em. Now 
you,’ he says to the servant, ‘ put them things 
aboard and clear out as quick as you’ve a mind to. 
You and I are through; understand? Don’t let 
me find you bangin’ around the place when I get 
back. Cast off, Sol.’ 

The man dumped the dunnage into the 

19 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


launch, pretty average ugly, and me and the boss 
climbed aboard. I cast off. 

“ ‘ Mr. Williams,’ says the man, kind of 
pleadin’, ‘ ain’t you goin’ to pay me the rest of 
my month’s wages ? ’ 

“ Williams told him he wa’n’t, and added 
trimmin’s to make it emphatic. 

“ I started the engine and we moved out at a 
good clip. All at once that hired man runs to the 
end of the wharf and calls after us. 

“ ‘ All right for you, you fat-head I ’ he yells. 
‘ You’ll be sorry for what you done to me.’ 

“ I cal’late the boss would have liked to go 
back and lick him, but I was hired to go a-fishin’, 
not to watch a one-sided prize fight, and I thought 
’twas high time we started. 

“ The name of that launch was the Shootin* 
Star, and she certainly lived up to it. ’Twas one 
of them slick, greasy days, with no sea worth 
mentionin’ and we biled along fine. We had to, 
because the cod ledge is a good many mile away, 
’round Sandy P’int out to sea, and, judgin’ by what 
I’d seen of Fatty so fur, I wa’n’t hankerin’ to spend 
more time with him than was necessary. More’n 
that, there was fog signs showin’. 

“ ‘ When was you figgerin’ on gettin’ back, Mr. 
Williams?’ I asked him. 

“ ‘ When I’ve caught as many fish as I want 
to,’ he says. ‘ I told that housekeeper of mine 
that I’d be back when I got good and ready; it 
20 


AT THE DEPOT 


might be to-night and it might be ten days from 
now. “ If I ain’t back in a week you can hunt me 
up,” I told her; “ but not before. And that goes.” 
I’ve got her trained all right. She knows me. 
It’s a pity if a man can’t be independent of 
females.’ 

“ I knew consider’ble many men that was 
subjects for pity, ’cordin’ to that rule. But I wa’n’t 
in for no week’s cruise, and I told him so. He said 
of course not; we’d be home that evenin’. 

The Shootin* Star kept slippin’ along. 
’Twas a beautiful mornin’ and, after a spell, it had 
its effect, even on a crippled disposition like that 
banker man’s. He lit up a cigar and begun to 
get more sociable, in his way. Commenced to ask 
me questions about myself. 

“By and by he says: ‘Berry, I suppose you 
figger that it’s a smart thing to get ten dollars out 
of me for a trip like this, hey ? ’ 

“ ‘ Not if it’s to last a week, I don’t,’ says I. 

“ ‘ It’s your lookout if it does,’ he says prompt. 
‘ You get ten for takin’ me out and back. If you 
ain’t back on time ’tain’t my fault,’ 

“ ‘ Unless this craft breaks down,’ I says. 

“ ‘ ’Twon’t break down. I looked after that. 
My motto is to look out for number one every 
time, and it’s a mighty good motto. At any rate, 
it’s made my money for me.’ 

“ He went on, preachin’ about business 
shrewdness and how it paid, and how mean and 
21 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


tricky in little deals we Rubes was, and yet we 
didn’t appreciate how to manage big things, till 1 
got kind of sick of it. 

“ ‘ Look here, Mr. Williams,’ says I, ‘ you 
know how I make my money — what little I do 
make — or you say you do. Now, if it ain’t a sassy 
question, how did you make yours ? ’ 

“ Well, he made his by bein’ shrewd and care- 
ful and always lookin’ out for number one. 
‘ Number one ’ was his hobby. I gathered that 
the heft of his spare change had come from dickers 
in stocks and bonds. 

“ ‘ Humph ! ’ says I. ‘ Well, speakin’ of tricks 
and meanness, I’ve allers heard tell that there was 
some of them things hitched to the tail of the stock 
market. What makes the stock market price of — 
well, of wheat, we’ll say? ’ 

“ That was regulated, so he said, by the law 
of supply and demand. If a feller had all the 
wheat there was and another chap had to have 
some or starve, why, the first one had a right to 
gouge t’other chap’s last cent away from him afore 
he let it go. 

“ ‘ That’s legitimate,’ he says. ‘ That’s cor- 
nerin’ the market. Law of supply and demand 
exemplified.’ 

“ ‘ ’Cordin’ to that law,’ says I, ‘ when you was 
so set on fishin’ to-day and hunted me up to run 
your boat here — ’cause I was about the only chap 
who could run it and w^a’n’t otherwise busy — I’d 
22 


AT THE DEPOT 

ought to have charged you twenty dollars instead 
of ten/ 

“ ‘ Sure you had,’ he says, grinnin’. ‘ But you 
weren’t shrewd enough to grasp the situation and 
do it. Now the deal’s closed and it’s too late.’ 

“ He went on talkin’ about ‘ pools ’ and 
‘ deals ’ and such. How prices of this stock and 
that was shoved up a-purpose till a lot of folks 
had put their money in it and then was smashed 
flat so’s all hands but the ‘poolers ’ would be what 
he called ‘ squeezed out,’ and the gang would get 
their cash. That was legitimate, too — ‘ high 
finance,’ he said. 

“ ‘ But how about the poor folks that had their 
savin’s in them stocks,’ I asks, ‘ and don’t know 
high financin’? Where’s the law of supply and 
demand come in for them ? ’ 

“ He laughed. ‘ They supply the suckers 
and the demand for money,’ says he. 

“ By eleven we was well out toward the fishin’ 
grounds. ’Twas the bad season now; the big fish 
had struck off still further and there wa’n’t another 
boat in sight. The land was just a yeller and 
green smooch along the sky line and the waves was 
runnin’ bigger. The Shootin^ Star was seaworthy, 
though, and I wa’n’t worried about her. The only 
thing that troubled me was the fog, and that was 
pilin’ up to wind’ard. I’d called Fatty’s attention 
to it when we fust started, but he said he didn’t 
red for fog. Well, I didn’t much care 

23 


care a 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


nuther, for we had a compass aboard and the 
engine was runnin’ fine. What wind there was 
was blowin’ offshore. 

“ And then, all to once, the engine stopped 
runnin’. I give the wheel a whirl, but she only 
coughed, consumptive-like, and quit again. I 
went forward to inspect, and, if you’ll believe it, 
there wa’n’t a drop of gasoline left in the tank. 
The spare cans had ought to have been full, and 
they was — but ’twas water they was filled with. 

“ ‘ Is this the way you have your boat ready 
for me? ’ I remarks, sarcastic. 

“ ‘ That — that man of mine told me he had 
everything filled,’ he stammers, lookin’ scart. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ says I, ‘ and I heard him hint likewise 
that he was goin’ to make you sorry. I guess he’s 
done it.’ 

“Well, sir! the brimstone names that Fatty 
called that man was somethin’ surprisin’ to hear. 
When he’d used up all he had in stock he invented 
new ones. When the praise service was over he 
turns to me and says : ‘ But what are we goin’ 
to do ? ’ 

“ ‘ Do? ’ says I. ‘ That’s easy. We’re goin’ 
to drift.’ 

“ And that’s what we done. I tried to 
anchor, but we wa’n’t over the ledge and the iron 
wouldn’t reach bottom by a mile, more or less. I 
rigged up a sail out of the oar and the canvas 
spray shield, but there wa’n’t wind enough to give 

24 


AT THE DEPOT 


us steerageway. So we drifted and drifted, out 
to sea. And by and by the fog come down and 
shut us in, and that fixed what little hope I had of 
bein’ seen by the life patrol on shore. 

“ The breeze died out flat about three o’clock. 
In one way this was a good thing. In another it 
wa’n’t, because we was well out in deep water, and 
when the wind did come it was likely to come 
harder’n we needed. However, there wa’n’t 
nothin’ to do but wait and hope for the best, as 
the feller said when his wife’s mother was sick. 

“ It was gettln’ pretty well along toward the 
edge of the evenin’ when I smelt the wind a-comin’. 
It came in puffs at fust, and every puff was healthier 
than the one previous. Inside of ten minutes it 
was blowin’ hard, and the seas were beginnin’ to 
kick up. I got up my jury rig — the oar and the 
spray shield — and took the helm. There wa’n’t 
nothin’ to do but run afore it, and the land 
knows where we would fetch up. At any rate, 
if the compass was right, we was drivin’ back 
into the bay again, for the wind had hauled clear 
around. 

“ The Shootin^ Star jumped and sloshed. 
Fatty had on all the ileskins and sweaters, but he 
was shakin’ like a custard pie. 

“ ‘ Oh, oh, heavens ! ’ he chatters. ‘ What will 
we do ? Will we drown ? ’ 

“ ‘ Don’t know,’ says I, tuggin’ at the wheel 
and try in’ to sight the compass. ‘ You’ve got the 
3 25 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

best chance of the two of us, if it’s true that 
fat floats.’ 

‘‘ I thought that might cheer him up some, but 
it didn’t. A big wave heeled us over then and a 
keg or two of salt water poured over the gunwale. 
He give a yell and jumped up. 

‘‘ ‘ My Lord ! ’ he screams. ‘ We’re sinkin’. 
Help ! help ! ’ 

“ ‘ Set down ! ’ I roared. ‘ Thought you knew 
how to act in a boat. Set down ! d’you hear me ? 
Set down and set still! ’ 

“ He set. Likewise he shivered and groaned. 
It got darker all the time and the wind freshened 
every minute. I expected to see that jury mast 
go by the board at any time. Lucky for us it 
held. 

“ No use tellin’ about the next couple of 
hours. ’Cordin’ to my reckonin’ they was years 
and we’d ought to have sailed plumb through the 
broadside of the Cape, and be makin’ a quick run 
for Africy. But at last we got into smoother 
water, and then, right acrost our bows, showed up 
a white strip. The fog had pretty well blowed 
clear and I could see it. 

“ ‘ Land, ho! ’ I yells. ‘ Stand by! We^re 
goin’ to bump.’ ” 

Captain Sol stopped short and listened. Mr. 
Phinney grasped his arm. 

“ For the dear land sakes, Sol,” he exclaimed, 
“ don’t leave me bangin’ in them breakers no 
26 


AT THE DEPOT 

longer’n you can help ! Heave ahead I Did you 
bump?” 

The depot master chuckled. 

Did we ? ” he repeated. “ Well, Pll tell you 
that by and by. Here comes the train and I better 
take charge of the ship. Anything so responsible 
as seein’ the cars come in without me to help would 
give Issy the jumpin’ heart disease.” 

He sprang from the truck and hastened toward 
the door of the station. Phinney, rising to follow 
him, saw, over the dark green of the swamp cedars 
at the head of the track, an advancing column of 
smoke. A whistle sounded. The train was 
coming in. 


CHAPTER II 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 

ND now life in East Harniss became tem- 



porarily fevered. Issy McKay dashed 


out of the station and rushed importantly 


up and down the platform. Ed Crocker and 
Cornelius Rowe emerged and draped themselves 
in statuesque attitudes against the side of the build- 
ing. Obed Gott came hurrying from his paint and 
oil shop, which was next to the “ general store.” 
Mr. Higgins, proprietor of the latter, sauntered 
easily across to receive, in his official capacity as 
postmaster, the mail bag. Ten or more citizens, 
of both sexes, and of various ages, gathered in 
groups to inspect and supervise. 

The locomotive pulled its string of cars, a 
“ baggage,” a smoker,” and two “ passengers,” 
alongside the platform. The sliding door of the 
baggage car was pushed back and the baggage 
master appeared in the opening. “ Hi ! Cap’n ! ” 
he shouted. “ Hi, Cap’n Sol ! Here’s some ex- 
press for you.” 

But unfortunately the Captain was in conversa- 


28 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


tion with the conductor at the other end of the 
train. Issy, willing and officious, sprang forward. 
“ ril take it, Bill,” he volunteered. “ Here, give 
it to me.” 

The baggage master handed down the package, 
a good sized one marked “ Glass. With Care.” 
Issy received it, clutched it to his bosom, turned 
and saw Gertie Higgins, pretty daughter of Beriah 
Higgins, stepping from the first car to the plat- 
form. Gertie had been staying with an aunt in 
Trumet and was now returning home for a day 
or two. 

Issy stopped short and gazed at her. He saw 
her meet and kiss her father, and the sight roused 
turbulent emotions in his bosom. He saw her nod 
and smile at acquaintances whom she passed. She 
approached, noticed him, and — oh, rapture ! — said 
laughingly, “ Hello, Is.” Before he could re- 
cover his senses and remember to do more than 
grin she had disappeared around the corner of the 
station. Therefore he did not see the young man 
who stepped forward to shake her hand and whis- 
per in her ear. This young man was Sam Bartlett, 
and, as a “ city dude,” Issy loathed and hated him. 

No, Issy did not see the hurried and brief 
meeting between Bartlett and Gertie Higgins, but 
he had seen enough to cause forgetfulness of mun- 
dane things. For an instant he stared after the 
vanished vision. Then he stepped blindly for- 
ward, tripped over something — “ his off hind leg,’^ 
29 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


so Captain Sol afterwards vowed — and fell sprawl- 
ing, the express package beneath him. 

The crash of glass reached the ears of the 
depot master. He broke away from the conductor 
and ran toward his prostrate “ assistant.” Push- 
ing aside the delighted and uproarious bystanders, 
he forcibly helped the young man to rise. 

“ What in time? ” he demanded. 

Issy agonizingly held the package to his ear 
and shook it. 

“ I — Pm afraid somethin’s cracked,” he fal- 
tered. 

The crowd set up a whoop. Ed Crocker ap- 
peared to be in danger of strangling. 

“Cracked!” repeated Captain Sol. 
“ Cracked! ” he smiled, in spite of himself. “ Yes, 
somethin’s cracked. It’s that head of yours, Issy. 
Here, let’s see ! ” 

He snatched the package from the McKay 
hands and inspected it. 

“Smashed to thunder!” he declared. 
“ Who’s the lucky one it belongs to ? Humph ! ” 
He read the inscription aloud, “ Major Cuthbert- 
son S. Hardee. The Major, hey! . . . Well, 
Is, you take the remains inside and you and I’ll 
hold services over it later.” 

“ I — I didn’t go to do it,” protested the fright- 
ened Issy. 

“ Course you didn’t. If you had you wouldn’t. 
You’re like the feller in Scriptur’, you leave un- 
do 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


done the things you ought to do and do them that 
— ^All right, Jim I Let her go ! Cast off ! ’* 

The conductor waved his hand, the engine 
puffed, the bell rang, and the train moved onward. 
For another twelve hours East Harniss was left 
marooned by the outside world. 

Beriah Higgins and the mail bag were already 
in the post office. Thither went the crowd to 
await the sorting and ultimate distribution. A 
short, fat little man lingered and, walking up to 
the depot master, extended his hand. 

“ Hello, Sol I ’’ he said, smiling. “ Thought 
Pd stop long enough to say ‘ Howdy,’ anyhow.” 

“ Why, Bailey Stitt ! ” cried the Captain. 
“How are you? Glad to see you. Thought 
you was down to South Orham, takin’ out seasick 
parties for the Ocean House, same kind of a job I 
used to have in Wellmouth.” 

“ I am,” replied Captain Stitt. “ That is, I 
was. Just now I’ve run over here to see about 
contractin’ for a supply of clams and quahaugs for 
our boarders. You never see such a gang to eat 
as them summer folks, in your life. Barzilla 
Wingate, he says the same about his crowd. He’s 
cornin’ on the mornin’ train from Wellmouth.” 

“ You don’t tell me. I ain’t seen Barzilla for 
a long spell. Where you stoppin’ ? Come up to 
the house, won’t you? ” 

“ Can’t. I’m goin’ to put up over to Obed 
Gott’s. His sister, Polena Ginn, is a relation of 

31 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


mine by marriage. So long! Obed’s gone on 
ahead to tell Polena to put the kettle on. Maybe 
Obed and Pll be back again after IVe had supper.’* 
“ Do. ril be round here for two or three 
hours yet.” 

He entered the depot. Except the forlorn 
Issy, who sat in a corner, holding the express 
package in his lap, Simeon Phinney was the only 
person in the waiting room. 

“Come on now, Sol!” pleaded Sim. “I 
want to hear the rest of that about you and Wil- 
liams. You left off in the most ticklish place pos- 
sible, out of spite, I do believe. Pm bangin’ on 
to that boat in the breakers until I declare I believe 
Pm catchin’ cold just from imagination.” 

“ Wait a minute, Sim,” said the depot master. 
Then he turned to his assistant. 

“ Issy,” he said, “ this is about the nineteenth 
time you’ve done just this sort of thing. You’re 
no earthly use and I ought to give you your clear- 
ance papers. But I can’t, you’re too — well — orna- 
mental. You’ve got to be punished somehow and 
I guess the best way will be to send you right up 
to Major Hardee’s and let you give him the rem- 
nants. He’ll want to know how it happened, and 
you tell him the truth. The truth, understand? 
If you invent any fairy tales out of those novels 
of yours Pll know it by and by and — well, you^ll 
know I know. No remarks, please. Git ! ” 

Issy hesitated, seemed about to speak, thought 

32 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 

better of it, took up package and cap, and 
“ got.” 

“ Let’s see,” said the Captain, sitting down in 
one of the station chairs and lighting a fresh cigar; 
“ where was Williams and I in that yarn of mine? 
Oh, yes, I could see land and caPlated we was goin’ 
to bump. Well, we did. Steerin’ anyways but 
dead ahead was out of the question, and all I could 
do was set my teeth and trust in my bein’ a member 
of the church. The Shootin^ Star hit that beach 
like she was the real article. Overboard went oar 
and canvas and grub pails, and everything else that 
wa’n’t nailed down, includin’ Fatty and me. I 
grabbed him by the collar and wallowed ashore. 

“ ‘ Awk I hawk I ’ he gasps, chokin’, ‘ I’m 
drown ded.’ 

“ I let him be drownded, for the minute. I had 
the launch to think of, and somehow or ’nother I got 
hold of her rodin’ and hauled the anchor up above 
tide mark. Then I attended to my passenger. 

“ ‘ Where are we? ’ he asks. 

“ I looked around. Close by w’as nothin’ but 
beach-grass and seaweed and sand. A little ways 
off was a clump of scrub pines and bayberry bushes 
that looked sort of familiar. And back of them 
was a little board shanty that looked more familiar 
still. I rubbed the salt out of my eyes. 

“ ‘ Well! ' says I. ‘ I swan to man I ’ 

“‘What is it?’ he says. ‘Do you know 
where we are ? Whose house is that ? ’ 

33 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ I looked hard at the shanty. 

“ ‘ Humph I ’ I grunted. ‘I do declare! Talk 
about a feller’s cornin’ back to his own. Whose 
shanty is that? Well, it’s mine, if you want to 
know. The power that looks out for the lame and 
the lazy has hove us ashore on Woodchuck Island, 
and that’s a piece of real estate I own.’ 

“ It sounds crazy enough, that’s a fact; but it 
was true. Woodchuck Island is a little mite of a 
sand heap off in the bay, two mile from shore and 
ten from the nighest town. I’d bought it and put 
up a shanty for a gunnin’ shack; took city gun- 
ners down there, once in a while, the fall before. 
That summer I’d leased it to a friend of mine, 
name of Darius Baker, who used it while he was 
lobsterin’. The gale had driven us straight in 
from sea, ’way past Sandy P’int and on to the 
island. ’Twas like hittin’ a nail head in a board 
fence, but we’d done it. Shows what Providence 
can do when it sets out. 

“ I explained some of this to Williams as we 
waded through the sand to the shanty. 

“‘But is this Baker chap here now?’ he 
asks. 

“ ‘ I’m afraid not,’ says I. ‘ The lobster sea-' 
son’s about over, and he was goin’ South on a yacht 
this week. Still, he wa’n’t to go till Saturday and 
perhaps ’ 

“ But the shanty was empty when we got there. 
I fumbled around in the tin matchbox and lit the 
34 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


kerosene lamp in the bracket on the wall. Then I 
turned to Williams. 

“ ‘ Well,’ says I, ‘ we’re lucky for once in ’ 

‘‘ Then I stopped. When he went overboard 
the water had washed off his hat. Likewise it had • 
washed off his long black hair — ^which was a wig — 
and his head was all round and shiny and bald, 
like a gull’s egg out in a rain storm.” 

“ I knew he wore a wig,” interrupted Phin- 

ney. 

** Of course you do. Everybody does how. 
But he wa’n’t such a prophet in Israel then as he’s 
come to be since, and folks wa’n’t acquainted with 
his personal beauties. 

“ ‘ What are you starin’ at? ’ he asks. 

“ I fetched a long breath. ‘ Nothin’,’ says I. 

‘ Nothin’.’ 

“ But for the rest of that next ha’f hour I went 
around in a kind of daze, as if my wig had gone 
and part of my head with it. When a feller has 
been doin’ a puzzle it kind of satisfies him to find 
out the answer. And I’d done my puzzle. 

“ I knew where I’d met Mr. Williams afore.” 

You did? ” cried Simeon. 

Um-hm. Wait a while. Well, Fatty went 
to bed, in one of the hay bunks, pretty soon after 
that. He stripped to his underclothes and turned 
in under the patchwork comforters. He was too 
beat out to want any supper, even if there’d been 
any in sight. I built a fire in the rusty cook stove 
35 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


and dried his duds and mine. Then I set down in 
the busted chair and begun to think. After a spell 
I got up and took account of stock, as you might 
say, of the eatables in the shanty. Darius had 
carted off his own grub and what there was on 
hand was mine, left over from the gunnin’ season 
— a hunk of salt pork in the pickle tub, some corn 
meal in a tin pail, some musty white flour in an- 
other pail, a little coffee, a little sugar and salt, 
and a can of condensed milk. I took these things 
out of the locker they was in, looked ’em over, put 
^em back again and sprung the padlock. Then I 
put the key into my pocket and went back to my 
chair to do some more thinkin’. 

“ Next mornin’ I was up early and when the 
banker turned out I was fryin’ a couple of slices 
of the pork and had some coffee b’ilin’. Likewise 
there was a pan of johnnycake in the oven. The 
wind had gone down considerable, but ’twas foggy 
and thick again, which was a pleasin’ state of 
things for yours truly. 

“ Williams smelt the cookin’ almost afore he 
got his eyes open. 

“ ‘ Hurry up with that breakfast,’ he says to 
me. * I’m hungry as a wolf.’ 

I didn’t say nothin’ then; just went ahead 
with my cookin’. He got into his clothes and went 
outdoor. Pretty soon he comes back, cussin’ the 
weather. 

“ ‘ See here, Mr. Williams,’ says I, ‘ how about 

36 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


them orders to your housekeeper? Are they 
straight? Won’t she have you hunted up for 
a week? ’ 

“ He colored pretty red, but from what he said 
I made out that she wouldn’t. I gathered that 
him and the old lady wa’n’t real chummy. She 
give him his grub and her services, and he 
give her the Old Harry and her wages. She 
wouldn’t hunt for him, not until she was ordered 
to. She’d be only too glad to have him out of 
the way. 

“ ‘ Humph ! ’ says I. ‘ Then I cal’late we’ll 
enjoy the scenery on this garden spot of creation 
until the week’s up.’ 

“ ‘What do you mean? ’ says he. 

“ ‘ Well,’ I says, ‘ the launch is out of commis- 
sion, unless it should rain gasoline, and at this time 
of year there ain’t likely to be a boat within hailin’ 
distance of this island; ’specially if the weather 
holds bad.’ 

“ He swore a blue streak, payin’ partic’lar at- 
tention to the housekeeper for her general stupid- 
ness and to me because I’d got him, so he said, into 
this scrape. I didn’t say nothin’; set the table, 
with one plate and one cup and sasser and knife 
and fork, hauled up a chair and set down to my 
breakfast. He hauled up a box and set 
down, too. 

“ ‘ Pass me that corn bread,’ says he. ‘ And 
why didn’t you fry more pork? ’ 

37 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ He was reachin’ out for the johnnycake, but 
I pulled it out of his way. 

“ ‘ Wait a minute, Mr. Williams,’ says L 
‘ While you was snoozin’ last night I made out a 
kind of manifest of the vittles aboard this shanty. 
’Cordin’ to my figgerin’ here’s scursely enough to 
last one husky man a week, let along two husky 
ones. I paid consider’ble attention to your 
preachin’ yesterday and the text seemed to be to 
look out for number one. Now in this case I’m 
the one and I’ve got to look out for myself. This 
is my shanty, my island, and my grub. So please 
keep your hands off that johnnycake.’ 

“ For a minute or so he set still and stared at 
me. Didn’t seem to sense the situation, as you 
might say. Then the red biled up in his face and 
over his bald head like a Fundy tide. 

“‘Why, you dummed villain!’ he shouts. 
‘ Do you mean to starve me ? ’ 

“ ‘ You won’t starve in a week,’ says I, helpin’ 
myself to pork. ‘ A feller named Tanner, that I 
read about years ago, lived for forty days on cold 
water and nothin’ else. There’s the pump right 
over in the corner. It’s my pump, but I’ll stretch 
a p’int and not charge for it this time.’ 

“ ‘ You — you — ’ he stammers, shakin’ all over, 

he was so mad. ‘ Didn’t I hire you ’ 

“ ‘ You hired me to take you out to the flshin’ 
grounds and back, provided the launch was made 
ready by you. It wa’n’t ready, so that contract’s 

38 \ 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


busted. And you was to furnish your extrys and 
I was to furnish mine. Here they be and I need 
’em. It’s as legitimate a deal as ever I see ; perfect 
case of supply and demand — supply for one and 
demand for two. As I said afore, I’m the one.’ 

“ ‘ By thunder ! ’ he growls, standin’ up, ‘ I’ll 
show you ’ 

“ I stood up, too. He was fat and flabby 
and I was thin and wiry. We looked each other 
over. 

“ ‘ I wouldn’t,’ says I. ‘ You’re under the doc- 
tor’s care, you know.’ 

“ So he set down again, not havin’ strength 
even to swear, and watched me eat my breakfast. 
And I ate it slow. 

“ ‘ Say,’ he says, finally, ‘ you think you’re 
mighty smart, don’t you. Well, I’m It, I guess, 
for this time. I suppose you’ll have no objection 
to sellin'^ me a breakfast ? ’ 

“ ‘ No — o,’ says I, ‘ not a mite of objection. 
I’ll sell you a couple of slices of pork for five dol- 
lars a slice and ’ 

“ ‘ Five dollars a — ! ’ His mouth dropped 
open like a main hatch. 

“ ‘ Sartin,’ I says. ‘ And two slabs of johnny- 
cake at five dollars a s! ib. And a cup of coffee at 
five dollars a cup. And ’ 

“ ‘ You’re crazy! ’ he sputters, jumpin’ up. 

‘‘ ‘ Not much, I ain’t. I’ve been settin’ at your 
feet lamin’ high finance, that’s all. You don’t 
39 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


seem to be onto the real inwardness of this deal. 
IVe got the grub market cornered, that’s all. The 
market price of necessaries is five dollars each now; 
it’s likely to rise at any time, but now it’s five.’ 

“ He looked at me steady for at least two more 
minutes. Then he got up and banged out of that 
shanty. A little later I see him down at the end 
of the sand spit starin’ out into the fog; lookin’ for 
a sail, I presume likely. 

“ I finished my breakfast and washed up the 
dishes. He come in by and by. He hadn’t had 
no dinner nor supper, you see, and the salt air gives 
most folks an almighty appetite. 

‘‘ ‘ Say,’ he says, ‘ I’ve been thinkin’. It’s 
usual in the stock and provision market to deal on 
a margin. Suppose I pay you a one per cent mar- 
gin now and ’ 

“ ‘ All right,’ says I, cheerful. ‘ Then I’ll 
give you a slip of paper sayin’ that you’ve bought 
such and such slices of pork and hunks of johnny- 
cake and I’m carryin’ ’em for you on a margin. 
Of course there ain’t no delivery of the goods now 
because ’ 

“ ‘ Humph ! ’ he interrupts, sour. ‘ You seem 
to know more’n I thought you did. Now are you 
goin’ to be decent and make me a fair price or 
ain’t you? ’ 

“ ‘ Can’t sell under the latest quotations,’ says 
I. ^ That’s five now; and spot cash.’ 

“ ‘ But hang it all ! ’ he says, ‘ I haven’t got 
40 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


money enough with me. Think I carry a national 
bank around in my clothes? ’ 

‘‘ ‘ You carry a Wellmouth Bank check book,* 
says I, ‘ because I see it in your jacket pocket last 
night when I was dryin’ your duds. Pll take a 
check.’ 

“ He started to say somethin’ and then stopped. 
After a spell he seemed to give in all to once. 

“ ‘ Very good,’ he says. ‘ You get my break- 
fast ready and Pll make out the check.’ 

“ That breakfast cost him twenty-five dollars; 
thirty really, because he added another five for an 
extry cup of coffee. I told him to make the check 
payable to ‘ Bearer,’ as ’twas quicker to write than 
‘ Solomon.’ 

“ He had two more meals that day and at bed- 
time I had his checks amountin’ to ninety-five dol- 
lars. The fog stayed with us all the time and 
nobody come to pick us up. And the next mornin’s 
outlook was just as bad, bein’ a drizzlin’ rain and 
a high wind. The mainland beach was in sight 
but that’s all except salt water and rain. 

“ He was surprisin’ly cheerful all that day, 
catin’ like a horse and givin’ up his meal checks 
without a whimper. If things had been different 
from what they was I’d have felt like a mean sneak 
thief. Bein as they was, I counted up the hundred 
and ten I’d made that day without a pinch of con- 
science. 

“ This was a Wednesday. On Thursday, the 

41 


4 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


third day of our Robinson Crusoe business, the 
weather was still thick, though there was signs of 
clearin’. Fatty come to me after breakfast — 
which cost him thirty-five, payable, as usual, to 
‘ Bearer ’ — with almost a grin on his big face. 

“ ‘ Berry,’ he says, ‘ I owe you an apology. I 
thought you was a green Rube, like the rest down 
here, but you’re as sharp as they make ’em. I ain’t 
the man to squeal when I get let in on a bad deal, 
and the chap who can work me for a sucker is en- 
titled to all he can make. But this pay-as-you-go 
business is too slow and troublesome. What’ll 
you take for the rest of the grub in the locker there, 
spot cash? Be white, and make a fair price.’ 

“ I’d been expectin’ somethin’ like this, and I 
was ready for him. 

“ ‘ Two hundred and sixty-five dollars,’ says I, 
prompt. 

“ He done a little figgerin’. ‘ Well, allowin’ 
that I have to put up on this heap of desolation’ for 
the better part of four days more, that’s cheap, ac- 
cordin’ to your former rates,’ he says. ‘ I’ll go 
you. But why not make it two fifty, even? ’ 

“‘Two hundred and sixty-five’s my price,’ says 
I. So he handed over another ‘Bearer’ check, and 
his board bill was paid for a week. 

“ Friday was a fine day, clear as a bell. Me 
and Williams had a real picnicky, sociable time. 
Livin’ outdoor this way had made him forget his 
diseases and the doctor, and he showed signs of 

42 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


bein’ ha’fway decent. We loafed around and 
talked and dug clams to help out the pork — that 
is, I dug ’em and Fatty superintended. We see 
no less’n three sailin’ craft go by down the bay and 
tried our best to signal ’em, but they didn’t pay 
attention — thought we was gunners or somethin’, 
I presume likely. 

“ At breakfast on Saturday, Williams begun to 
ask questions again. 

“ ‘ Sol,’ says he, ‘ it surprised me to find that 
you knew what a “ margin ” was. You didn’t get 
that from anything I said. Where did you 
get it ? ’ 

“ I leaned back on my box seat. 

“ ‘ Mr. Williams,’ says I,' ‘ I cal’late Pll tell 
you a little story, if you want to hear it. ’Tain’t 
much of a yarn, as yarns go, but maybe it’ll interest 
you. The start of it goes back to consider’ble 
many year ago, when I was poorer’n I be now, 
and a mighty sight younger. At that time me and 
another feller, a partner of mine, had a fish weir 
out in the bay here. The mackerel struck in and 
we done well, unusual well. At the end of the 
season, not countin’ what we’d spent for livin’ and 
expenses, we had a balance owin’ us at our fish 
dealer’s up to Boston of five hundred dollars — two 
fifty apiece. My partner was goin’ to be married 
in the spring and was cal’latin’ to use his share to 
buy furniture for the new house with. So we de- 
cided we’d take a trip up to Boston and collect the 
43 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


money, stick it into some savin’s bank where 
’twould draw interest until spring and then haul it 
out and use it. ’Twas about every cent we had in 
the world. 

“ ‘ So to Boston we went, collected our money, 
got the address of a safe bank and started out to 
find it. But on the way my partner’s hat blowed 
off and the bank address, which was on a slip of 
paper inside of it, got lost. So we see a sign on 
a buildin’, along with a lot of others, that kind 
of suggested bankin’, and so we stepped into 
the buildin’ and went upstairs to ask the way 
again. 

“ * The place wa’n’t very big, but ’twas fixed up 
fancy and there was a kind of blackboard along 
the end of the room where a boy was markin’ up 
figgers in chalk. A nice, smilin’ lookin’ man met 
us and, when we told him what we wanted, he 
asked us to set down. Then, afore we knowed it 
almost, we’d told him the whole story — about the 
five hundred and all. The feller said to hold on 
a spell and he’d go along with us and show us 
where the savin’s bank was himself. 

‘ So we waited and all the time the figgers 
kept goin’ up on the board, under signs of “ Pork ” 
and “ Wheat ” and “ Cotton ” and such, and we’d 
hear how so and so’s account was makin’ a thou- 
sand a day, and the like of that. After a while 
the nice man, who it turned out was one of the 
bosses of the concern, told us what it meant. 

44 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


Seemed there was a big “rise ” in the market and 
them that bought now was bound to get rich quick. 
Consequent we said we wished we could buy and 
get rich, too. And the smilin’ chap says, “ Let’s 
go have some lunch.” ’ 

“ Williams laughed. ‘ Ho, ho ! ’ says he. 
‘Expensive lunch, was it?’ 

“ ‘ Most extravagant meal of vittles ever I got 
away with,’ I says. ‘ Cost me and my partner two 
hundred and fifty apiece, that lunch did. We 
stayed in Boston two days, and on the afternoon of 
the second day we was on our way back totin’ a 
couple of neat but expensive slips of paper signi- 
fyin’ that we’d bought December and May wheat 
on a one per cent margin. We was a hundred 
ahead already, ’cordin’ to the blackboard, and was 
figgerin’ what sort of palaces we’d build when we 
cashed in. 

“ ‘ Ain’t no use preachin’ a long sermon over 
the remains. ’Twas a simple funeral and nobody 
sent flowers. Inside of a month we was cleaned 
out and the wheat place had gone out of business — 
failed, busted, you understand. Our fish dealer 
friend asked some questions, and found out the 
shebang wa’n’t a real stock dealer’s at all. ’Twas 
what they call a “ bucket shop,” and we’d bought 
nothin’ but air, and paid a commission for buyin’ 
it. And the smilin’, nice man that run the swindle 
had been hangin’ on the edge of bust for a long 
while and knowed ’twas cornin’. Our five hun- 
45 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

dred had helped pay his way to a healthier climate, 
that’s all.’ 

‘“Hold on a minute,’ says Fatty, lookin’ more 
interested. ‘ What was the name of the firm that 
took you greenhorns in ? ’ 

“ ‘ ’Twas the Empire Bond, Stock and Grain 
Exchange,’ says 1. ‘ And ’twas on Derbyshire 

Street.’ 

“ He give a little jump. Then he says, slow, 
‘ Hu-u-m ! I — see.’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ says I. ‘ I thought you would. You 
had a mustache then and your name was diff’rent, 
but you seemed familiar just the same. When 
your false hair got washed off I knew you right 
away.’ 

“ He took out his pocket pen and his check 
book and done a little figgerin’. 

“ ‘ Humph! ’ he says, again. ‘ You lost five 
hundred and I’ve paid you five hundred and five. 
What’s the five for? ’ 

“ ‘ That’s my commission on the sales,’ I 
says. 

“ And just then comes a hail from outside the 
shanty. Out we bolted and there was Sam Davis, 
just steppin’ ashore from his power boat. Wil- 
liams’s housekeeper had strained a p’int and had 
shaded her orders by a couple of days. 

“ Williams and Sam started for home right 
off. I followed in the Shootin^ Star, havin’ bor- 
rered gasoline enough for the run. I reached the 
46 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


dock ha’f an hour after they did, and there was 
Fatty waitin’ for me. 

“ ‘ Berry,’ says he, ‘ I’ve got a word or two to 
say to you. I ain’t kickin’ at your givin’ me tit 
for tat, or tryin’ to. Turn about’s fair play, if 
you can call the turn. But it’s against my prin- 
ciples to allow anybody to beat me on a business 
deal. Do you suppose,’ he says, ‘ that I’d have 
paid your robber’s prices without a word if I hadn’t 
had somethin’ up my sleeve? Why, man,’ says 
he, ‘ I gave you my checks^ not cash. And I’ve 
just telephoned to the Wellmouth Bank to stop 
payment on those checks. They’re no earthly use 
to you ; see ? There’s one or two things about high 
finance that you don’t know even yet. Ho, ho 1 ’ 

“ And he rocked back and forth on his heels 
and laughed. 

“ I held up my hand. * Wait a jiffy, Mr. 
Williams,’ says I. ‘ I guess these checks are all 
right. When we fust landed on Woodchuck, I 
judged by the looks of the shanty that Baker 
hadn’t left it for good. I cal’lated he’d be back. 
And sure enough he come back, in his catboat, on 
Thursday evenin’, after you’d turned in. Them 
checks w^as payable to “ Bearer,” you remember, 
so I give ’em to him. He was to cash ’em in the 
fust thing Friday mornin’, and I guess you’ll find 
he’s done it.’ ” 

Well, I swan to man!*^ interrupted the as- 
tonished and delighted Phinney. “ So you had 
47 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


him after all ! And I was scart you’d lost 
every cent.” 

Captain Sol chuckled. “Yes,” he went on, 
“ I had him, and his eyes and mouth opened 
together. 

“ ‘ What? ’ he hellers. ‘ Do you mean to say 
that a boat stopped at that dummed island and 
didn^t take us off? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh,’ says I, ‘ Darius didn’t feel called on to 
take you off, not after I told him who you was. 
You see, Mr. Williams,’ I says, ‘ Darius Baker 
was my partner in that wheat speculation I was 
tellin’ you about.’ ” 

The Captain drew a long breath and re-lit his 
cigar, which had gone out. His friend pounded 
the settee ecstatically. 

“ There ! ” he cried. “ I knew the name 
‘ Darius Baker ’ wa’n’t so strange to me. When 
was you and him in partners, Sol? ” 

“ Oh, ’way back in the old days, afore I went 
to sea at all, and afore mother died. You 
wouldn’t remember much about it. Mother and 
I was livin’ in Trumet then and our house here 
was shut up. I was only a kid, or not much more, 
and Williams was young, too.” 

“ And that’s the way he made his money ! 
Him! Why, he’s the most respected man in this 
neighborhood, and goes to church, and ” 

“ Yes. Well, if you make money enough you 
can always be respected — by some kinds of people 
48 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


— and find some church that’ll take you in. Ain’t 
that so, Bailey? ” 

Captain Stitt and his cousin, Obed Gott, the 
paint dealer, were standing in the doorway of the 
station. They now entered. 

“ I guess it’s so,” replied Stitt, pulling up a 
chair, “ though I don’t know what you was talkin’ 
about. However, it’s a pretty average safe bet 
that what you say is so, Sol, ’most any time. 
What’s the special ‘ so,’ this time? ” 

“ We was talkin’ about Mr. Williams,” began 
Phinney. 

“ The Grand Panjandrum of East Harniss,” 
broke in the depot master. “ East Harniss is 
blessed with a great man, Bailey, and, like con- 
sider’ble many blessin’s he ain’t entirely unmixed.” 

Obed and Simeon looked puzzled, but Captain 
Stitt bounced in his chair like a good-natured rub- 
ber ball. “ Ho! ho! ” he chuckled, “ you don’t 
surprise me, Sol. We had a great man over to 
South Orham three years ago and he begun by 
blessin’s and ended with — with t’other thing. 
Ho! ho! ” 

“ What do you mean? ” demanded Sim. 

“ Why, I mean Stingy Gabe. You’ve heard of 
Stingy Gabe, ain’t you ? ” 

“ I guess we’ve all heard somethin’ about him,” 
laughed Captain Sol; “but we’re willin’ to hear 
more. He was a reformer, wa’n’t he? ” 

“ He sartin was ! Ho ! ho ! ” 

49 


> 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ For the land sakes, tell it, Bailey,” demanded 
Mr. Gott impatiently. “ Don’t sit there bouncin’ 
and gurglin’ and gettin’ purple in the face. Tell 
it, or you’ll bust tryin’ to keep it in.” 

“ Oh, it’s a great, long — ” began Captain 
Bailey protestingly. 

“ Go on,” urged Phinney. “ We’ve got more 
time than anything else, the most of us. Who was 
this Stingy Gabe? ” 

“ Yes,” urged Gott, “ and what did he 
reform? ” 

Captain Stitt held up a compelling hand. 
“ It’s all of a piece,” he interrupted. “ It takes in 
everything, like an eatin’-house stew. And, as 
usual in them cases, the feller that ordered it didn’t 
know what was cornin’ to him. 

“ Stingy Gabe was that feller. His Sunday 
name was Gabriel Atkinson Holway, and his dad 
used to peddle fish from Orham to Denboro and 
back. The old man was christened Gabriel, like- 
wise. He owed ’most everybody, and, besides, 
was so mean that he kept the scales and trimmin’s 
of the fish he sold to make chowder for himself 
and family. All hands called him ‘ Stingy Gabe,’ 
and the boy inherited the name along with the fif- 
teen hundred dollars that the old man left when he 
died. He cleared out — young Gabe did — soon as 
the will was settled and afore the outstandin’ debts 
was, and nobody in this latitude see hide nor hair 
of him till three years ago this cornin’ spring. 

50 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


“ Then, lo and behold you ! he drops off the 
parlor car at the Orham station and cruises down 
to South Orham, bald-headed and bay-windowed, 
sufferin’ from pomp and prosperity. Seems he’d 
been spendin’ his life cornerin’ copper out West 
and then copperin’ the corners in Wall Street. 
The folks in his State couldn’t put him in jail, so 
they sent him to Congress. Now, as the Honor- 
able Atkinson Holway, he’d come back to the Cape 
to rest his wrist, which had writer’s cramp from 
signin’ stock certificates, and to ease his eyes with 
a sight of the dear old home of his boyhood. 

“ Bill Nickerson comes postin’ down to me 
with the news. 

“ ‘ Bailey,’ says he, ‘ what do you think’s hap- 
pened? Stingy Gabe’s struck the town.’ 

“ ‘ For how much? ’ I asks, anxious. ‘ Don’t 
let him have it, whatever ’tis.’ 

“ Then he went on to explain. Gabe was rich 
as all get out, and ’twas his intention to buy back 
his old man’s house and fix it up for a summer 
home. He was delighted to find how little change 
there was in South Orham. 

“ ‘ No matter if ’tain’t but fifteen cents he’ll 
get it, if the s’lectmen don’t watch him,’ I says; 
‘ and the bills, too. I know his tribe.’ 

‘ You don’t understand,’ says Nickerson. 
‘ He ain’t no thief. He’s rich, I tell you, and he’s 
cal’latin’ to do the town good.’ 

“ * Course he is,’ I says. ‘ It runs in the fam- 

51 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


ily. His dad done it good, too — good as ’twas 
ever done, I guess.’ 

“ But next day Gabe himself happens along, 
and I see right off that I’d made a mistake in my 
reckonin’. The Honorable Atkinson Holway 
wa’n’t figgerin’ to borrow nothin’. When a chap 
has been skinnin’ halibut, minnows are too small 
for him to bother with. Gabe was full of fried 
clams and philanthropy. 

“‘By Jove! Stitt,’ he says, ‘livin’ here has 
been the dream of my life.’ 

“‘You’ll be glad to wake up, won’t you?’ 
says I. ‘ I wish I could.’ 

“ ‘ I tell you,’ he says, ‘ this little old village is 
all right I All it needs is a public-spirited resident 
to help it along. I propose to be the P. S. R.’ 

“ And on that program he started right in. 
Fust off he bought his dad’s old place, built it over 
into the eight-sided palace that’s there now, 
fetched down a small army of servants skippered 
by an old housekeeper, and commenced to live 
simple but complicated. Then, havin’ provided 
the needful charity for himself, he’s ready to scat- 
ter manna for the starvin’ native. 

“ He had a dozen schemes laid out. One was 
to build a free but expensive library ; another was 
to pave the main road with brick; third was to give 
stained-glass windows and velvet cushions to the 
meetin’house, so’s the congregation could sleep 
comfortable in a subdued light. The stained- 

52 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


glass idee put him in close touch with the minister, 
Reverend Edwin Fisher, and the minister sug- 
gested the men’s club. And he took to that men’s 
club scheme like an old maid to strong tea; the 
rest of the improvements went into dry dock to refit 
while Admiral Gabe got his men’s club off 
the ways. 

“ ’Twas the billiard room that made the min- 
ister hanker for a men’s club. That billiard room 
was the worry of his life. Old man Jotham Gale 
run it and had run it sence the Concord fight, in a 
way of speakin’. You remember his sign, maybe: 
‘ Jotham W. Gale. Billiard, Pool, and Sipio 
Saloon. Cigars and Tobacco. Tonics and Pipes. 
Minors under Ten Years of Age not Admitted.’ 
Jotham’s customers was called, by the outsiders, 
‘ the billiard-room gang.’ 

“ The billiard room gang wa’n’t the best folks 
in town, Pll own right up to that. Still, they 
wa’n’t so turrible wicked. Jotham never sold 
rum, and he’d never allow no rows in his place. 
But, just the same, his saloon was reckoned a bad 
influence. Young men hadn’t ought to go there — 
most of us said that. If there was a nicer place 
to go, argues the minister, ’twould help the moral 
tone of the community consider’ble. ‘ Why not,’ 
says he to Stingy Gabe, ‘ start a free club for men 
that’ll make the billiard room look like the tail 
boat in a race ? ’ And says Gabe : ‘ Bully I I’ll 
do it.’ ” 


53 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Captain Stitt paused long enough to enjoy a 
chuckle all by himself. Before he had quite fin- 
ished his laugh, slow and reluctant steps were heard 
on the back platform and Issy appeared on the 
threshold. He was without the package, but did 
not look happy. 

“ Well, Is,’’ inquired the depot master, “ did 
you give the remains to the Major? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Issy. 

“ Did you tell him how the shockin’ fatality 
happened? How the thing got broken? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I told him.” 

“ What did he say? Didn’t let his angry pas- 
sions rise, did he? ” 

*‘No-o; no, sir, he didn’t rise nothin’. He 
didn’t get mad neither. But you could see he felt 
pretty bad. Talked about ‘ old family glass ’ and 
‘ priceless airloons ’ or some such. Said much as 
he regretted to, he should feel it no more’n justice 
to have somebody pay damages.” 

“ Humph! ” Captain Sol looked very grave. 
** Issy, I can see your finish. You’ll have to pay 
for somethin’ that’s priceless, and how are you 
goin’ to do that? ‘Old family glass,’ hey? 
Hum I And I thought I saw the label of a Bos- 
ton store on that package.” 

Obed Gott leaned forward eagerly. 

“ Is that Major Hardee you’re talkin’ about? ” 
he asked. 

“ Yes, sir. He’s the only Major we’ve got. 

54 


SUPPLY AND DEMAND 


Cap’ns are plenty as June bugs, but Majors and 
Gen’rals are scarce. Why? ” 

“ Oh, nothin’. Only — ” Mr. Gott muttered 
the remainder of the sentence under his breath. 
However, the depot master heard it and his eye 
twinkled. 

“ You’re glad of it! ” he exclaimed. “ Why, 
Obed! Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee! Pm 
surprised. Better not let the women folks hear 
you say that.” 

“Look here!” cried Captain Stitt, rather 
tartly, “ am I goin’ to finish that yarn of mine or 
don’t you want to hear it? ” 

“ Beg your pardon, Bailey. Go on. The last 
thing you said was what Stingy Gabe said, and 
that was ” 


CHAPTER III 


STINGY GABE ' 

A nd that/’ said Captain Bailey, mollified 
by the renewed interest of his listeners, 
“was, ‘Bully! I’ll do it!’ 

“ So he calls a meetin’ of everybody inter- 
ested, at his new house. About every respectable 
man in town was there, includin’ me. Most of 
the billiard-room gang was there, likewise. Jo- 
tham, of course, wa’n’t invited. 

“ Gabe calls the meetin’ to order and the min- 
ister makes a speech tellin’ about the scheme. ‘ Our 
generous and public-spirited citizen. Honorable 
Atkinson Holway,’ had offered to build a suitable 
clubhouse, fix it up, and donate it to the club, them 
and their heirs forever, Amen. ’Twas to belong 
to the members to do what they pleased with — no 
strings tied to it at all. Dues would be merely 
nominal, a dollar a year or some such matter. 
Now, who favored such a club as that? 

“ Well, ’most everybody did. Daniel Bassett, 
chronic politician, justice of the peace, and head of 

56 


“STINGY GABE’’ 


the ‘ Conservatives ’ at town meetin’, he made a 
talk, and in comes him and his crew. Gains Ellis, 
another chronic, who is postmaster and skipper of 
the ‘ Progressives,’ had been fidgetin’ in his seat, 
and now up he bobs and says he’s for it ; then every 
‘ Progressive ’ jines immediate. But the billiard- 
roomer.c- they didn’t jine. They looked sort of 
sheepish, and set still. When Mr. Fisher begun 
to hint p’inted in their direction, they got up and 
slid outdoor. And right then I’d ought to have 
smelt trouble, but I didn’t; had a cold in my head, 
I guess likely. 

“ Next thing was to build the new clubhouse, 
and Gabe went at it hammer and tongs. He had 
a big passel of carpenters down from the city, and 
inside of three months the buildin’ was up, and 
she was a daisy, now I tell you. There was a read- 
in’ room and a meetin’ room and an ‘ amusement 
room.’ The amusements was crokinole and par- 
chesi and checkers and the like of that. Also 
there was a gymnasium and a place where you 
could play the planner and sing — till the sufferin’ 
got acute and somebody come along and abated 
you. 

“ When I fust went inside that clubhouse I see 
’twas bound to be ‘ Good-by, Bill,’ for Jotham. 
His customers would shake his ratty old shanty 
for sartin, soon’s they see them elegant new rooms. 
I swan, if I didn’t feel sorry for the old repro- 
bate, and, thinks I, I’ll drop around and sympa- 
5 57 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


thize a little. Sympathy don’t cost nothin’, and 
Jotham’s pretty good company. 

“ I found him settin’ alongside the peanut 
roaster, watchin’ a couple of patients cruelize the 
pool table. 

“ ‘ Hello, Bailey! ’ says he. ‘ You surprise me. 
Ain’t you ’fraid of catchin’ somethin’ in this ha’nt 
of sin? Have a chair, anyhow. And a cigar, 
won’t you ? ’ 

“ I took the chair, but I steered off from the 
cigar, havin’ had experience. Told him I guessed 
I’d use my pipe. He chuckled. 

“ ‘ Fur be it from me to find fault with your 
judgment,’ he says. ‘ Terbacker does smoke bet- 
ter’n anything else, don’t it.’ 

“We set there and puffed for five minutes or 
so. Then he sort of jumped. 

“‘What’s up?’ says I. 

“ ‘ Oh, nothin’ I ’ he says. ‘ Bije Simmons got 
a ball in the pocket, that’s all. Don’t do that 
too often, Bije; I got a weak heart. Well, Bailey,’ 
he adds, turnin’ to me, ‘ Gabe’s club’s fixed up 
pretty fine, ain’t it? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, yes,’ I says; ‘ ’tis.’ 

“ ‘ Finest ever I see,’ says he. ‘ I told him so 
when I was in there.’ 

“ ‘ What? ’ says I. ‘You don’t mean to say 
you!ve been in that clubroom? ’ 

“ ‘ Sartin. Why not? I want to take in 
all the shows there is — ’specially the free ones. 

58 


‘‘ STINGY GABE ” 

Make a good billiard room, that clubhouse 
would.’ 

“ I whistled. ‘ Whew ! ’ says I. ‘ Didn’t tell 
Gabe that^ did you? ’ 

“ He nodded. ‘ Yup,’ says he. ‘ I told 
him.’ 

“ I whistled again. ‘ What answer did he 
make ? ’ I asked. 

‘‘ ‘ Oh, he wa’n’t enthusiastic. Seemed to cal’- 
late I’d better shut up my head and my shop along 
with it, afore he knocked off one and his club 
knocked out t’other.’ 

“ I pitied the old rascal; I couldn’t help it. 

“ ‘ Jotham,’ says I, ‘ I ain’t the wust friend 
you’ve got in South Orham, even if I don’t play 
pool much. If I was you I’d clear out of here 
and start somewheres else. You can’t fight all the 
best folks in town.’ 

“ He didn’t make no answer. Just kept on 
a-puffin’. I got up to go. Then he laid his hand 
on my sleeve. 

“ ‘ Bailey,’ says he, ‘ when Betsy Mayo was 
ailin’, her sister’s tribe was all for the Faith Cure 
and her husband’s relations was high for patent 
medicine. When the Faith Curists got to workin’, 
in would come some of the patent mediciners and 
give ’em the bounce. And when they went home 
for the night, the Faithers would smash all the 
bottles. Finally they got so busy fightin’ ’mong 
themselves that Betsy see she was gettin’ no better 
59 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


fast, and sent for the reg’lar doctor. He done the 
curin’, and got the pay.’ 

“‘Well,’ says I, ‘what of it?’ 

“ ‘ Nothin’,’ says he. ‘ Only I’ve been practis- 
in’ a considerable spell. So long. Come in again 
some time when it’s dark and the respectable ele- 
ment can’t see you.’ 

“ I went away thinkin’ hard. And next morn- 
in’ I hunted up Gabe, and says I : 

“ ‘ Mr. Holway,’ I says, ‘ what puzzles me is 
how you’re goin’ to elect the officers for the new 
club. Put up a Conservative and the Progres- 
sives resign. H’ist the Progressive ensign and the 
Conservatives’ll mutiny. As for the billiard-room- 
ers — providin’ any jine — they’ve never been known 
to vote for anybody but themselves. I can’t see 
no light yet — nothin’ but fog.’ 

“ He winks, sly and profound. ‘ That’s all 
right,’ says he. ‘ Fisher and I have planned that. 
You watch! * 

“ Sure enough, they had. The minister was 
mighty popular, so, when ’twas out that he was 
candidate to be fust president of the club, all hands 
was satisfied. Two vice presidents was named — 
one bein’ Bassett and t’other Ellis. Secretary was 
a leadin’ Conservative; treasurer a head Progres- 
sive. Officers and crew was happy and mutiny 
sunk ten fathoms. Only none of the billiard-room 
gang had jined, and they was the fish we was really 
tryin’ for. 


6o 


‘‘STINGY GABE” 


“ ’Twas next March afore one of ’em did come 
into the net, though we’d have out all kinds of 
bait — suppers and free ice cream Saturday nights, 
and the like of that. And meantime things had 
been happenin’. 

“ The fust thing of importance was Gabe’s 
leavin’ town. Our Cape winter weather was what 
fixed him. He stood the no’theasters and Scotch 
drizzles till January, and then he heads for Key 
West and comfort. Said his heart still beat warm 
for his native village, but his feet was froze — or 
words similar. He cal’lated to be back in the 
spring. Then the Reverend Fisher got a call to 
somewheres in York State, and felt he couldn’t 
afford not to hear it. Nobody blamed him; the 
salary paid a minister in South Orham is enough 
to make any feller buy patent ear drums. But that 
left our men’s club without either skipper or pilot, 
as you might say. 

“ One week after the farewell sermon, Daniel 
Bassett drops in casual on me. He was passin’ 
around smoking material lavish and regardless. 

“ ‘ Stitt,’ says he, ‘ you’ve always voted for 
Conservatism in our local affairs, haven’t you ? ’ 

“ * Well,’ says I, ‘ I didn’t vote to roof the 
town hall with a new mortgage, if that’s what you 
mean.’ 

“ ‘ Exactly,’ he says. ‘ Now, our men’s club,, 
while not as yet the success we hoped for, has come 
to be a power for good in our community. It 
6i 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


needs for its president a conservative, thoughtful 
man. Bailey,’ he says, ‘ it has come to my ears 
that Gaius Ellis intends to run for that office. You 
know him. As a taxpayer, as a sober, thoughtful 
citizen, my gorge rises at such insolence. I pro- 
test, sir! I protest against ’ 

“ He was standin’ up, makin’ gestures with 
both arms, and he had his town-meetin’ voice iled 
and runnin’. I was too busy to hanker for a stump 
speech, so I cut across his bows. 

“ ‘ All right, all right,’ says I. ‘ I’ll vote for 
you, Dan.’ 

“ He fetched a long breath. ‘ Thank you,’ 
says he. ‘ Thank you. That makes ten. Ellis can 
count on no more than nine. My election is as- 
sured.’ 

“ Seein’ that there wa’n’t but nineteen reg’lar 
voters who come to the club meetin’s, if Bassett 
had ten of ’em it sartin did look as if he’d get in. 
But on election night what does Gaius Ellis do but 
send a wagon after old man Solomon Peavey, 
who’d been dry docked with rheumatiz for three 
months, and Sol’s vote evened her up. ’Twas ten 
to ten, a deadlock, and the election was postponed 
for another week. 

“ This was of a Tuesday. On Wednesday I 
met Bije Simmons, the chap who was playin’ pool 
at Jotham’s. 

“ ‘ Hey, Bailey! ’ says he. ‘ Shake hands with 
a brother. I’m goin’ to jine the men’s club,’ 

62 


‘^STINGY GABE” 


“ ‘ You bef ’ says I, surprised enough, for 
Simmons was a billiard-roomer from ’way back. 

“ ‘ Yup,’ he says. ‘ I’ll be voted in at next 
meetin’, sure. I’m studyin’ up on parchesi now.’ 

“ ‘ Hum ! ’ I says, thinkin’. ‘ How you goin’ 
to vote ? ’ 

“ ‘ Me? ’ says he. ‘ Me? Why, man, I won- 
der at you ! Can’t you see the fires of Conserva- 
tism blazin’ in my eyes? I’m Conservative bred 
and Conservative born, and when I’m dead there’ll 
be a Conservative gone. By, by. See you Tues- 
day night.’ 

“ He went off, stoppin’ everybody he met to 
tell ’em the news. And on Thursday Ed Barnes 
dropped in to pay me the seventy-five cents he’d 
borrowed two years ago come Fourth of July. 
When I’d got over the fust shock and had counted 
the money three times, I commenced to ask ques- 
tions. 

“ ‘ Somebody die and will you a million, Ed? ’ 
I wanted to know. 

“ ‘ No,’ says he. ‘ It’s the reward of virtue. 
I’m eoin’ to be a better man. I’m linin’ the men’s 
club.’ 

“ ‘ No! ’ says I, for Ed was as strong a bil- 
liard-roomer as Bije. 

“ ‘ Sure ! ’ he answers. ‘ I’m filled full of de- 
sires for crokinole and progressiveness. See you 
Tuesday night at the meetin’.’ 

“ And, would you b’lieve it, at that meetin’ 

63 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


no less’n six confirmed members of the billiard' 
room gang was voted into the men’s club. ’Twas 
a hallelujah gatherin’. I couldn’t help thinkin’ 
how glad and proud Gabe and Mr. Fisher would 
have been to see their dreams cornin’ true. But 
Bassett and Ellis looked more worried than glad, 
and when the votin’ took place I understood the 
reason. Them new members had divided even, 
and the ballots stood Bassett thirteen and Ellis 
thirteen. The tie was still on and the election was 
put off for another week. 

“ In that week, surprisin’ as it may seem, two 
more billiard-roomers seen a light and jined with 
us. However, one was for Bassett and t’other for 
Ellis, so the deadlock wa’n’t broken. Jotham had 
only a couple of his reg’lars left, and I swan to 
man if they didn’t catch the disease inside of the 
follerin’ fortni’t and hand in their names. The 
* Billiard, Pool, and Sipio Saloon,’ from bein’ the 
liveliest place in town, was now the deadest. 
Through the window you could see poor Jotham 
mopin’ lonesome among his peanuts and cigars. 
The sayin’ concernin’ the hardness of the trans- 
gressor’s sleddin’ was workin’ out for him^ all 
right. But the conversions had come so sudden 
that I couldn’t understand it, though I did have 
some suspicions. 

“ ‘ Look here, Dan,’ says I to Bassett, * are 
you goin’ to keep this up till judgment? There 
ain’t but thirty votin’ names in this place — except 
64 


“STINGY GABE’’ 

the chaps off fishin’, and they won’t be back till 
fall. Fifteen is for you and fifteen for Gaius. 
Most astonishin’ agreement of difference ever I 
see. We’ll never have a president, at this rate.’ 

“ He winked. * Won’t, hey? ’ he says. * Sure 
you’ve counted right? I make it thirty-one.’ 

“ ‘ I don’t see how,’ says I, puzzled. ‘ No- 
body’s left outside the club but Jotham himself, 
and he ’ 

“ ‘ That’s all right,’ he interrupts, winkin’ 
again. ‘ You be on hand next Tuesday night. You 
can’t always tell, maybe somethin’ll happen.’ 

“ I was on hand, all right, and somethin’ did 
happen, two somethin’s, in fact. We hadn’t much 
more’n got in our seats afore the door opened, and 
in walked Gaius Ellis, arm in arm with a man; 
and the man was th j Honorable Stingy Gabe 
Atkinson Holway. 

“ ‘ Gentlemen,’ sings out Gaius, bubblin’ over 
with joy, ‘ I propose three cheers for our founder, 
who has returned to us after his long absence.’ 

“ We give the cheers — that is, some of the 
folks did. Bassett and our gang wa’n’t cheerin’ 
much; they looked as if somebody had passed ’em 
a counterfeit note. You see, Gabe Holway was 
one of the hide-boundest Progressives afloat, and 
a blind man could see who’d got him back again 
and which way he’d vote. It sartinly looked bad 
for Bassett now. 

“ Gaius proposes that, out of compliment, as 

6S 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


founder of the club, Mr. Holway be asked to pre- 
side. So he was asked, though the Conservatives 
wasn’t very enthusiastic. Gabe took the chair, 
preached a little sermon about bein’ glad to see his 
native home once more, and raps for order. 

“ ‘ If there’s no other business afore the meet- 
in’,’ says he, ‘ we will proceed to ballot for presi- 
dent.’ 

“ But it turned out that there was other busi- 
ness. Dan Bassett riz to his feet and commenced 
one of the most feelin’ addresses ever I listened to. 

“ Fust he congratulated all hands upon the suc- 
cess of Mr. Holway’s philanthropic scheme for 
the betterment of South Orham’s male citizens. 
Jeered at at fust by the unregenerate, it had gone 
on, winnin’ its way into the hearts of the people, 
until one by one the said unregenerate had regen- 
erated, and now the club numbered thirty souls and 
the Honorable Atkinson. 

“ ‘ But,’ says Dan, wavin’ his arms, ‘ one man 
yet remains outside. One lone man! The chief 
sinner, you say? Yes, I admit it. But, gentle- 
men, a repentant sinner. Alone he sits amid the 
wreck of his business — a business wrecked by us, 
gentlemen — without a customer, without a friend. 
Shall it be said that the free and open-handed 
men’s club of South Orham turned its back upon 
one man, merely because he has been what he was? 
Gentlemen, I have talked with Jotham Gale; he is 
old, he is friendless, he no longer has a meairs of 
66 


“STINGY GABE 


livelihood — ^we have taken it from him. We have 
turned his followers’ steps to better paths. Shall 
we not turn his, also? Gentlemen and friends, 
Jotham Gale is repentant, he feels his ostrichism ’ 
— whatever he meant by that — ‘ he desires to be- 
come self-respecting, and he asks us to help him. 
He wishes to join this club. Gentlemen, I propose 
for membership in our association the name of 
Jotham W. Gale.’ 

“ He set down and mopped his face. And the 
powwow that broke loose was somethin’ tremen- 
dous. Of course ’twas plain enough what Dan’s 
game was. This was the ‘ somethin’ ’ that was 
goin’ to happen. 

“ Ellis see the way the land lay, and he bounces 
up to protest. ’Twas an outrage; a scandal; ridic- 
ulous ; and so forth, and so on. Poor Gabe didn’t 
know what to do, and so he didn’t do nothin’. A 
head Conservative seconds Jotham’s nomination. 
’Twas put to a vote and carried easy. Dan’s speech 
had had its effect and a good many folks voted 
out of sympathy. How did I vote? /’// never 
tell you. 

“ And then Bassett gets up, smilin’, goes to the 
outside door, opens it, and leads in the new mem- 
ber. He’d been waitin’ on the steps, it turned out. 
Jotham looked mighty quiet and meek. I pitied 
the poor old codger more’n ever. Snaked in, he 
was, out of the wet, like a yeller dog, by the club 
that had kicked him out of his own shop. 

67 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

“ Chairman Gabe pounds for order, and sug- 
gests that the votin’ can go on. But Ellis jumps 
up, and says he : 

“ ‘What’s the sense of votin’ now? ’ he asks 
sarcastic. ‘ Will the lost lamb we’ve just yanked 
into the fold have the face to stand up and bleat 
that he hasn’t promised to vote Conservative? 
Dan Bassett, of all the contemptible tricks that 
ever ’ 

“ Bassett’s face was redder’n a ripe tomatter. 
He shakes his fist in Gaius’s face and yells opin- 
ions and comments. 

“ ‘ Don’t you talk to me about tricks, you ward- 
heeler I ’ he hollers. ‘Why did you fetch Mr. 
Holway back home? Why did you, hey? That 
was the trickiest trick that I ’ 

“ Gabe pretty nigh broke his mallet thumpin’. 

“ ‘ Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! ’ says he. ‘ This is 
most unseemly. Sit down, if you please, Mr. 
Ellis, when the purpose of this association is con- 
sidered, it seems to me very wrong to find fault 
because the chief of our former antagonists has 
seen the error of his ways and become one of us. 
Mr. Bassett, I do not understand your intimation 
concernin’ myself. I shall adjourn this meetin’ 
until next Friday evenin’, gentlemen. Meanwhile, 
let us remember that we are gentlemen.’ 

“ He thumped the desk once, and parades out 
of the buildin’, dignified as Julius Caesar. The 
rest of us toddled along after him, all talkin’ at 
68 


STINGY GABE” 


once. Bassett and Ellis glowered at each other 
and hove out hints about what would happen 
afore they got through. ’Twas half-past ten 
afore I got to bed that night, and Sarah J. — that’s 
Mrs. Stitt — kept me awake another hour explainin’ 
whys and wherefores. 

“For the next three days nobody done any- 
thing but knock off work and talk club politics. 
You’d see ’em on the corners and in the post office 
and camped on the meetin’-house steps, arguin’ and 
jawin’. Dan and Gaius was hurryin’ around, 
moppin’ their foreheads and lookin’ worried. On 
Thursday there was all sorts of rumors afloat. 
Finally they all simmered down to one, and that 
one was what made me stop Stingy Gabe on the 
street and ask for my bearin’s. 

“ ‘ Mr. Holway,’ says I, ‘ is it true that Dan 
and Gaius have resigned and agreed to vote for 
somebody else ? ’ 

“ He nodded, grand and complacent. 

“ ‘ Then who’s the somebody? ’ says I. * For 
the land sakes I tell me. It’s as big a miracle as 
the prodigal son.’ 

“ I remember now that the prodigal son ain’t 
a miracle, but I was excited then. 

“ ‘ Stitt,’ says he, ‘ I am the “ somebody,” as 
you call it. I have decided to let my own wishes 
and inclinations count for nothin’ in this affair, 
and to accept the office of president myself. It 
will be announced at the meetin’.’ 

69 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ I whistled. ‘ By gum I * says I. ‘ YouVc 
got a great head, Mr. Holway, and I give you 
public credit for it. It’s the only course that ain’t 
full of breakers. Did you think of it yourself? ’ 

“ He colored up a little. ‘ Why, no, not ex- 
actly,’ he says. ‘ The fact is, the credit belongs to 
our new member, Mr. Gale.’ 

“‘To Jotham?' says I, astonished. 

“ ‘ Yes. He suggested my candidacy, as a 
compromise. Said that he, for one, would be 
proud to vote for me. Mr. Gale seems thoroughly 
repentant, a changed man. I am counting on him 
for great things in the future.’ 

“ So the fuss seemed settled, thanks to the last 
person on earth you’d expect would be peacemaker. 
But that afternoon I met Darius Tompkins, Bas- 
sett’s right-hand man. 

“ ‘ Bailey,’ says he, ‘ you’re a Conservative, 
ain’t you? You’re for Dan through thick 
and thin ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why I ’ says I, ‘ I understand Dan and 
Gaius are both out of it now, and it’s settled on 
Holway. Dan’s promised to vote for him.’ 

** * He has,’ says Tompkins, with a wink, ‘ but 
the rest of us ain’t. We pledged our votes to 
Dan Bassett, and we ain’t the kind to go back on 
our word. Dan himself’ll vote for Gabe; so’ll 
Gaius and his reg’lar tribe. That’ll make twelve, 
countin’ Holway’s own.’ 

“ ‘ Make seventeen, you mean,’ says 1. 

70 


“STINGY GABE’’ 


* Gaius and his crowd’s fifteen and Dan’s sixteen 
and Gabe’s seven ’ 

“ He winked again, and Interrupted me. 
‘ You’re countin’ wrong, my boy,’ says he. ‘ Five 
of Galus’s folks come from the old billiard-room 
gang. Just suppose somethin’ happened to make 
that five vote, on the quiet, for Bassett. 
Then ’ 

“ A customer come in then, and Tompkins had 
to leave ; but afore he went he got me to one side 
and whispers: 

“ ‘ Keep mum, old man, and vote straight for 
Dan. We’ll show old Holway that we can’t be 
led around by the nose.’ 

“ ‘ Tompkins,’ says I, ‘ I know your head well 
enough to be sartin that It didn’t work this out 
by itself. And why are you so sure of the billiard 
roomers ? Who put you up to this ? ’ 

“ He rapped the side of his nose. ‘ The 
smartest politician In this town,’ says he, ‘ and the 
oldest — J. W. Gale, Esq.! S-s-sh-h! Don’t say 
nothin’.’ 

“ I didn’t say nothin’. I was past talk. And 
that evenin’ as I went past the billiard room on 
my way home, who nould come out of It but 
Gaius Ellis, and he lov Iced as happy as Tompkins 
had. 

“ Friday night that clubroom was filled. 
Every member was there, and most of ’em had 
fetched their wives and families along to see the 

71 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


fun. There was whisperin’ and secrecy every- 
wheres. Honorable Gabe took the chair and 
makes announcements that the shebang is open 
for business. 

Up gets Dave Bassett and all but sheds tears. 
He says that he made up his mind to vote, not for 
himself, but for the founder and patron of the 
club, the Honorable Atkinson Holway. He 
spread it over Gabe thick as sugar on a youngster’s 
cake. And when he set down all hands applauded 
like fury. But I noticed that he hadn’t spoke for 
nary Conservative but himself. 

“ Then Gaius Ellis rises and sobs similar. 
He’s stopped votin’ for himself, too. His ballot 
is for that grand and good man, Gabriel Atkinson 
Holway, Esq. More applause and hurrahs. 

“And then who should get up but Jotham 
Gale. He talks humble, like a has-been that 
knows he’s a back number, but he says it’s his priv- 
ilege to cast his fust vote in that club for Mr. Hol- 
way, South Orham’s pride. Nobody was expectin’ 
him to say anything, and the cheers pretty nigh 
broke the winders. 

“ Gabe was turrible affected by the soft soap, 
you could see that. He fairly sobbed as he sprink- 
led gratitude and acceptances. When the agony 
was over, he says the votin’ can begin. 

“ I cal’lated he expected somebody’d move to 
make it unanimous, but they didn’t. So the blank 
ballots was handed around, and the pencils got 
72 


STINGY GABE’» 


busy. Gabe app’ints three tellers, Bassett and 
Ellis, of course, for two — and the third, 
Jotham Gale. 

“ ‘ As a compliment to our newest member,’ 
says the chairman, smilin’ philanthropic. 

“When the votes was in the hat, the tellers 
retired to the amusement room to count up. It 
took a long time. I see the Conservatives and 
Progressives nudgin’ each other and winkin’ 
back and forth. Five minutes, then ten, then 
fifteen. 

“ And all of a sudden the biggest row bu’st 
loose in that amusement room that ever you heard. 
Rattlety — bang I Biff ! Smash ! The door flew 
open, and in rolled Bassett and Ellis, all legs and 
arms. Gabe and some of the rest hauled ’em apart 
and held ’em so, but the language them two hove 
at each other was enough to bring down a 
judgment. 

“ ‘ Gentlemen I gentlemen ! ’ hollers poor 
Gabe. ‘What in the world? I am astounded! 
I ’ 

“‘You miserable traitor!’ shrieks Gaius, 
wavin’ a fist at Dan. 

“ ‘ You low-down hound! ’ whoops Dan back 
at him. 

“ ‘ Silence ! ’ bellers Gabe, poundin’ thunder 
storms on the desk. ‘ Will some one explain why 
these maniacs are — Ah, Mr. Gale — thank 
goodness, you at least are sane ! ’ 

6 73 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Jotham walks to the front of the platform. 
He was holdin’ the hat and a slip of paper with 
the result set down on it. 

“ ‘ Ladies and feller members,’ says he, 
‘ there’s been some surprisin’ votin’ done in this 
election. Things ain’t gone as we cal’lated they 
would, somehow. Mr. Holway, your election 
wa’n’t unanimous, after all.’ 

“ The way he said it made most everybody 
think Gabe was elected, anyhow, and I guess Hol- 
way thought so himself, for he smiled forgivin’ 
and says: 

“ ‘ Never mind, Mr. Gale,’ says he. ‘ A 
unanimous vote was perhaps too much to expect. 
Go on.’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ says Jotham. ‘ Well, here’s the way 
it stands. I’ll read it to you.’ 

“ He fixes his specs and reads like this : 

“ ‘ Number of votes cast, 32.’ 

“ ‘ Honorable Atkinson Holway has 4.’ 

^ What? ^ gasps Stingy Gabe, failin’ into his 

chair. 

“ ‘ Yes, sir,’ says Jotham. ‘ It’s a shame, I 
know, but it looks as nobody voted for you, Mr. 
Holway, but yourself and me and Dan and Gaius. 
To proceed: 

“ ‘ Daniel Bassett has 9.’ 

“ The Conservatives and their women folks 
fairly groaned out loud. Tompkins jumped to his 
feet, but Jotham held up a hand. 

74 


“STINGY GABE” 


“ ‘ Just a moment, D’rius,’ he says. ‘ I ain’t 
through yet. 

“ ‘ Gaius Ellis has 9.’ 

“ Then ’twas the Progressives’ turn to groan. 
The racket and hubbub was gettin’ louder all the 
time. 

“ ‘ There’s ten votes left,’ goes on Jotham, 
* and they bear the name of Jotham W. Gale. I 
can’t understand it, but it does appear that I’m 
elected president of this ’ere club. Gentlemen, I 
thank you for the honor, which is as great as ’tis 
unexpected.’ 

“ Gabe and the Progressives and the Conserv- 
atives set and looked at each other. And up 
jumps ’Bije Simmons, and calls for three cheers 
for the new president. 

“ Nobody jined in them cheers but the old bil- 
liard room gang; they did, though, every one of 
’em, and Jotham smiled fatherly down on his flock. 

“ I s’pose there ain’t no need of explainin’. 
Jotham had worked it all, from the very fust. 
When the tie business begun and Gaius and Dan 
was bribin’ the billiard roomers to jine the club, 
’twas him that fixed how they should vote so’s to 
keep the deadlock goin’. ’Twas him that put 
Bassett up to proposin’ him as a member. ’Twas 
him that suggested Gabe’s cornin’ back to Gaius. 
’Twas him that — But what’s the use? ’Twas 
him all along. He was It. 

“ That night everybody but the billiard-room 

75 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


gang sent in their resignation to that club. We 
refused to be bossed by such people. Gabe re- 
signed, too. Pie was disgusted with East Harniss 
and all hands in it. He’d have took back the 
clubhouse, but he couldn’t, as the deed of gift was 
free and clear. But he swore he’d never give it 
another cent. 

“ Folks thought that would end the thing, be- 
cause it wouldn’t be self-supportin’, but Jotham 
had different idees. He simply moved his pool 
tables and truck up from the old shop, and now 
he’s got the finest place of the kind on the Cape, 
rent free. 

“ ‘ I told you ’twould make a good billiard 
saloon, didn’t I, Bailey? ’ he says, chucklin’. 

“ ‘ Jotham,’ says I, ‘ of your kind you’re a per- 
fect wonder.’ 

“ ‘ Well,’ says he, ‘ I diagnosed that men’s club 
as sufferin’ from acute politics. I’ve been doctor- 
in’ that disease for a long time. The trouble with 
you reformers,’ he adds, solemn, ‘ is that, when 
it comes to political doin’s, you ain’t practical.’ 

“ As for Stingy Gabe, he shut up his fine house 
and moved to New York. Said he was through 
with helpin’ the moral tone. 

“ ‘ When I die,’ he says to me, ‘ if I go to the 
bad place I may start in reformin’ that. It don’t 
need it no more’n South Orham does, but ’twill be 
enough sight easier job.’ 

“ And,” concluded Captain Stitt, as soon as he 

76 


“STINGY GABE 


could be heard above the “ Haw I haws ! ” caused 
by the Honorable Holway’s final summing-up of 
his native town, “ I ain’t so sure that he was greatly 
mistook. What do you think, Sol? ” 

The depot master shook his head. “ Don’t 
know, Bailey,” he answered, dryly. “ I’ll have to 
visit both places ’fore I give an opinion. I have 
been to South Orham, but the neighborhood that 
your friend Gabe compared it to I ain’t seen — ^yet. 
I put on that ‘ yet,’ ” he added, with a wink, 
“ ’cause I knew Sim Phinney would if I didn’t.” 

Captain Bailey rose and covered a yawn with 
a plump hand. 

“ I believe I’ll go over to Obed’s and turn in,” 
he said. “ I’m sleepy as a minister’s horse to- 
night. You don’t mind, do you, Obed? ” 

“ No-o,” replied Mr. Gott, slowly. “ No, I 
don’t, ’special. I kind of thought I’d run into the 
club a few minutes and see some of the other fel- 
lers. But it ain’t important — not very.” 

The “ club ” was one of the rooms over Mr. 
Higgins’s store and post office. It had been re- 
cently fitted up with chairs and tables from its 
members’ garrets and, when the depot and store 
were closed, was a favorite gathering place of 
those reckless ones who cared to “ set up late ” — 
that is, until eleven o’clock. Most of the men in 
town belonged, but many, Captain Berry among 
them, visited the room but seldom. 

“ Checkers,” said the depot master, referring 

77 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


to the “ club’s ” favorite game, “ is too deliber- 
ately excitin’ for me. To watch Beriah Higgins 
and Ezra Weeks fightin’ out a game of checkers is 
like gettin’ your feet froze in January and waitin’ 
for spring to come and thaw ’em out. It’s a 
numbin’ kind of dissipation.” 

But Obed Gott was a regular attendant at the 
“ club,” and to-night he had a particular reason 
for wishing to be there. His cousin noticed his 
hesitation and made haste to relieve his mind. 

“ That’s all right, Obed,” he said, “ go to the 
club, by all means. I ain’t such a stranger at your 
house that I can’t find my way to bed without help. 
Good-night, Sim. Good-night, Issy. Cheer up; 
maybe the Major’s glassware is priceless. So 
long, Cap’n Sol. See you again some time to- 
morrer.” 

He and Mr. Gott departed. The depot 
master rose from his chair. “ Issy,” he com- 
manded, “ shut up shop.” 

Issy obeyed, closing the windows and locking 
the front door. Captain Sol himself locked the 
ticket case and put the cash till into the small safe. 

“ That’ll do, Is,” said the Captain. “ Good- 
night. Don’t worry too much over the Major’s 
glass. I’ll talk with him, myself. You dream 
about pleasanter things — your girl, if you’ve got 
one.” 

That was a chance shot, but it struck Issy in 
the heart. Even during his melancholy progress 

78 


STINGY GABE” 


to and from Major Hardee’s, the vision of Gertie 
Higgins had danced before his greenish-blue eyes. 
His freckles were engulfed In a surge of blushes 
as, with a stammered “ Night, Cap’n Berry,” he 
hurried out into the moonlight. 

The depot master blew out the lamps. 
“ Come on, Sim,” he said, briefly. “ Goin’ to 
walk up with me, or was you goin’ to the club? ” 

“ Cal’late I’ll trot along with you, if you don’t 
mind. I’d just as soon get home early and wrastle 
with the figures on that Williams movin’ job.” 

They left the depot, locked and dark, passed 
the “ general store,” where Mr. Higgins was put- 
ting out his lights prior to adjournment to the 
“ club ” overhead, walked up Main Street to Cross 
Street, turned and began climbing the hill. Sim- 
eon spoke several times but his friend did not an- 
swer. A sudden change had come over him. 
The good spirits with which he told of his adven- 
ture wdth Williams and which had remained dur- 
ing Phinney’s stay at the depot, were gone, appar- 
ently. His face. In the moonlight, was grave and 
he strode on, his hands In his pockets. 

At the crest of the hill he stopped. 

‘‘ Good-night, Sim,” he said, shortly, and, 
turning, walked off. 

The building mover gazed after him In sur- 
prise. The nearest way to the Berry home was 
straight down Cross Street, on the other side of 
the hill, to the Shore Road, and thence along that 
79 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


road for an eighth of a mile. The Captain’s usual 
course was just that. But to-night he had taken 
the long route, the Hill Boulevard, which made a 
wide curve before it descended to the road below. 

Sim, who had had a shrewd suspicion concern- 
ing his friend’s silence and evident mental dis- 
turbance, stood still, looking and wondering. 
Olive Edwards, Captain Berry’s old sweetheart, 
lived on the Boulevard. She was in trouble and 
the Captain knew it. He had asked, that very 
evening, what she was going to do when forced to 
move. Phinney could not tell him. Had he 
gone to find out for himself? Was the mountain 
at last coming to Mohammed? 

For some minutes Simeon remained where he 
was, thinking and surmising. Then he, too, 
turned and walked cautiously up the Boulevard. 
He passed the Williams mansion, its library win- 
dows ablaze. He passed the twenty-five room 
“ cottage ” of the gentleman from Chicago. 
Then he halted. Opposite him was the little Ed- 
wards dwelling and shop. The curtains were up 
and there was a lamp burning on the small counter. 
Beside the lamp, in a rocking chair, sat Olive Ed- 
wards, the widow, sewing. As he gazed she 
dropped the sewing in her lap, and raised her head. 

Phinney saw how worn and sad she looked. 
And yet, how young, considering her forty years 
and all she had endured and must endure. She 
put her hand over her eyes, then removed it 
8o 


“STINGY GABE” 


wearily. A lump came in Simeon’s throat. If 
he might only help her; if some one might help 
her in her lonely misery.^ 

And then, from where he stood in the shadow 
of the Chicago gentleman’s hedge, he saw a figure 
step from the shadows fifty feet farther on. It 
was Captain Solomon Berry. He walked to the 
middle of the road and halted, looking in at Olive. 
Phinney’s heart gave a jump. Was the Captain 
going into that house, going to her^ after all these 

years? Was the mountain 

But no. For a full minute the depot master 
stood, looking in at the woman by the lamp. 
Then he jammed his hands into his pockets, 
wheeled, and tramped rapidly off toward his home. 
Simeon Phinney went home, also, but it was with a 
heavy heart that he sat down to figure the cost of 
moving the Williams “ pure Colonial ” to its des^ 
tined location. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE MAJOR 

T he depot master and his friend, Mr. 

Phinney, were not the only ones whose 
souls were troubled that evening. Obed 
Gott, as he stood at the foot of the stairs leading 
to the meeting place of the “ club,” was vexed and 
worried. His cousin. Captain Stitt, had gone into 
the house and up to his room, and Obed, after 
seeing him safely on his way, had returned to the 
club. But, instead of entering immediately, he 
stood in the Higgins doorway, thinking, and 
frowning as he thought. And the subject of his 
thought was the idol of feminine East Harniss, the 
“ old-school gentleman,” Major Cuthbertson Scott 
Hardee. 

The Major first came to East Harniss one 
balmy morning in March — came, and created an 
immediate sensation. “ Redny ” Blount, who 
drives the “ depot wagon,” was wrestling with a 
sample trunk belonging to the traveling represent- 
ative of Messrs. Braid & Gimp, of Boston, when 
he heard a voice — and such a voice — saying: 

82 


THE MAJOR 

“ Pardon me, my dear sir, but may I trouble 
you for one moment? ” 

Now “ Redny ” was not used to being ad- 
dressed as “ my dear sir.” He turned wonder- 
ingly, and saw the Major, in all his glory, standing 
beside him. “ Redny’s ” gaze took in the tall, 
^lim figure in the frock coat tightly buttoned ; took 
in the white hair, worn just long enough to touch 
the collar of the frock coat; the long, drooping 
white mustache and imperial; the old-fashioned 
stock and open collar; the black and white checked 
trousers; the gaiters; and, last of all, the flat 
brimmed, carefully brushed, old-fashioned silk 
hat. Mr. Blount gasped. 

“Huh?” he said. 

“ Pardon me, my dear sir,” repeated the 
Major, blandly, smoothly, and with an air of — 
welb not condescension, but gracious familiarity. 
“ Will you be so extremely kind as to inform me 
concerning the most direct route to the hotel or 
boarding house? ” 

The word “ hotel ” was the only part of this 
speech that struck home to “ Redny’s ” awed mind. 

“ Hotel? ” he repeated, slowly. “ Why, yes, 
sir. Pm goin’ right that way. If you’ll git right 
into my barge I’ll fetch you there in ten min- 
utes.” 

There was enough in this reply, and the man- 
ner in which it was delivered, to have furnished the 
station idlers, in the ordinary course of events, 

83 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


with matter for gossip and discussion for a week. 
Mr. Blount had not addressed a person as “ sir 
since he went to school. But no one thought of 
this; all were too much overcome by the splendor 
of the Major’s presence. 

“ Thank you,” replied the Major. “ Thank 
you. I am obliged to you, sir. Augustus, you 
may place the baggage in this gentleman’s con- 
veyance.” 

Augustus was an elderly negro, very black as 
to face and a trifle shabby as to clothes, but with a 
shadow of his master’s gentility, like a reflected 
luster, pervading his person. He bowed low, de- 
parted, and returned dragging a large, old style 
trunk, and carrying a plump valise. 

“Augustus,” said the Major, “you may sit- 
upon the seat with the driver. That is,” he 
added, courteously, “ if Mr. — Mr. ” 

“ Blount,” prompted the gratified “ Redny.” 

“ If Mr. Blount will be good enough to per- 
mit you to do so.” 

“ Why, sartin. Jump right up. Giddap, 
you ! ” 

There was but one passenger, besides the Major 
and Augustus, in the “ depot wagon ” that morn- 
ing. This passenger was Mrs. Polena Ginn, who 
had been to Brockton on a visit. To Mrs. Polena 
the Major, raising his hat in a manr^r that no 
native of East Harniss could acquire by a lifetime 
of teaching, observed that it was a beautiful morn- 

84 


THE MAJOR 

•ng. The flustered widow replied that it “ was 
so.” This was the beginning of a conversation 
that lasted until the “ Central House ” was 
reached, a conversation that left Polena impressed 
with the idea that her new acquaintance was as 
near the pink of perfection as mortal could be. 

“ It wa’n’t his clothes, nuther,” she told her 
brother, Obed Gott, as they sat at the dinner table. 
“ I don’t know what ’twas, but you could jest see 
that he was a gentleman all over. I wouldn’t won- 
der if he was one of them New York millionaires, 
like Mr. Williams — but so different. ‘ Redny ’ 
Blount says he see his name onto the hotel register 
and ’twas ‘ Cuthbertson Scott Hardee.’ Ain’t 
that a tony name for you? And his darky man 
called him ‘ Major.’ I never see sech manners on 
a livin’ soul! Obed, I do wish you’d stop eatin’ 
pie with a knife.” 

Under these pleasing circumstances did Major 
Cuthbertson Scott Hardee make his first appear- 
ance in East Harniss, and the reputation spread 
abroad by Mr. Blount and Mrs. Ginn was con- 
firmed as other prominent citizens met him, and 
fell under the spell. In two short weeks he was 
the most popular and respected man in the village. 
The Methodist minister said, at the Thursday 
evening sociable, that “ Major Hardee is a true 
type of the old-school gentleman,” whereupon 
Beriah Higgins, who was running for selectman, 
and therefore felt obliged to be interested in all 


0 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


educational matters, asked whereabouts that school 
was located, and who was teaching it now. 

It was a treat to see the Major stroll down 
Main Street to the post office every pleasant 
spring morning. Coat buttoned tight, silk hat 
the veriest trifle on one side, one glove on and 
its mate carried with the cane in the other hand, 
and the buttonhole bouquet — always the bouquet 
— as fresh and bright and jaunty as its wearer 
himself. 

It seemed that every housekeeper whose dwell- 
ing happened to be situated along that portion of 
the main road had business in the front yard at 
the time of the Major’s passing. There were 
steps to be swept, or rugs to be shaken, or door- 
knobs to be polished just at that particular time. 
Dialogues like the following interrupted the trium- 
phal progress at three minute intervals : 

“ Good-morning, Mrs. Sogberry. Good- 
morning. A delightful morning. Busy as the 
proverbial bee once more, I see. I can never cease 
to admire the industry and model neatness of the 
Massachusetts housekeeper. And how is your 
charming daughter this morning? Better, I 
trust? ” 

“ Well, now. Major Hardee, I don’t know. 
Abbie ain’t so well’s I wish she was. She set up a 
spell yesterday, but the doctor says she ain’t gittin’ 
along the way she’d ought to. I says to him, s’l, 
‘Abbie ain’t never what you’d call a reel hearty 
86 


THE MAJOR 

eater, but, my land! when she don’t eat nothing* 
I says ” 

And so on and so on, with the Major always 
willing to listen, always sympathetic, and always 
so charmingly courteous. 

The Central House, East Harniss’s sole hotel, 
and a very small one at that, closed its doors on 
April loth. Mr. Godfrey, its proprietor, had come 
to the country for his health. He had been in- 
veigled, by an advertisement in a Boston paper, 
Into buying the Central House at East Harniss. 
It would afford him, so he reasoned, light employ- 
ment and a living. The employment was light 
enough, but the living was lighter. He kept the 
Central House for a year. Then he gave it up as 
a bad job and returned to the city. ‘‘ I might keep 
my health if I stayed,” he admitted, in explaining 
his position to Captain Berry, “ but if I want to 
keep to what little money I have left. I’d better 
go. Might as well die of disease as starvation.” 

Everyone expected that the “ gentleman of the 
old school ” would go also, but one evening Abner 
Payne, whose business is “ real estate, fire and life 
insurance, justice of the peace, and houses to let 
and for sale,” rushed into the post office to an- 
nounce that the Major had leased the “ Gorham 
place,” furnished, and intended to make East 
Harniss his home. 

“ He likes the village so well he’s goin’ to stay 
here always,” explained Abner. “ Says he’s been 

87 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


all ’round the world, but he never see a place he 
liked so well’s he does East Harniss. How’s that 
for high, hey? And you callin’ it a one-horse 
town, Obed Gott ! ” 

The Major moved into the “ Gorham place ” 
the next morning. It — the “ place ” — ^was an old- 
fashioned house on the hill, though not on Mr. 
Williams’ “ Boulevard.” It had been one of the 
finest mansions in town once on a time, but had de- 
teriorated rapidly since old Captain Elijah Gorham 
died. Augustus carried the Major’s baggage from 
the hotel to the house. This was done very early 
and none of the natives saw the transfer. There 
was some speculation as to how the darky man- 
aged to carry the big trunk single-handed; one of 
two persons asked Augustus this very question, but 
they received no satisfactory answer. Augustus 
was habitually close-mouthed. Mr. Godfrey left 
town that same morning on the first train. 

The Major christened his new home “ Silver- 
leaf Hall,” because of two great “ silver-leaf ” 
trees that stood by the front door. He had some 
repairing, paper hanging and painting done, or- 
dered a big stock of* groceries from the local 
dealer, and showed by his every action that his stay 
in East Harniss was to be a lengthy one. He 
hired a pew In the Methodist church, and joined 
the “ club.” Augustus did the marketing for 
“ Silver-leaf Hall,” and had evidently been pro- 
moted to the position of housekeeper. 

88 


THE MAJOR 

The Major moved in April. It was now the 
third week in June and his popularity was, if pos- 
sible, more pronounced than ever. On this par- 
ticular, the evening of Captain Bailey Stitt’s unex- 
pected arrival, Obed had been sitting by the tea 
table in his dining room after supper, going over 
the account books of his paint, paper, and oil store. 
His sister, Mrs. Polena Ginn, was washing dishes 
in the kitchen. 

“ Wat’s that letter you’re readin’, Obed? ” she 
called from her post by the sink. 

“ Nothin’,” said her brother, gruffly, crumpling 
up the sheet of note paper and jamming it into 
his pocket. 

“ My sakes ! you’re shorter’n pie crust to-night. 
What’s the matter ? Anything gone wrong at the 
store? ” 

“ No.” 

Silence again, only broken by the clatter of 
dishes. Then Polena said: 

“ Obed, when are you goin’ to take me up to 
the clubroom so’s I can see that picture of Major 
Hardee that he presented the club with? Every- 
body says it’s just lovely. Sarah T. says it’s per- 
fectly elegant, only not quite so handsome as the 
Major reelly is. She says it don’t flatter him 
none.” 

“ Humph ! Anybody’d think Hardee was 
some kind of a wonder, the way you women folks 
go on ’bout him. How do you know but what he 
7 89 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

might be a reg’lar fraud? Looks ain’t every- 
thing.” 

“ Well, I never ! Obed Gott, I should think 
you’d be ’shamed of yourself, talkin’ that way. I 
shan’t speak another word to you to-night. I 
never see you act so unlikely. An old fraud! 
The idea 1 That grand, noble man 1 ” 

Obed tried to make some sort of half-hearted 
apology, but his sister wouldn’t listen to it. Po- 
lena’s dignity was touched. She was a woman of 
consequence in East Harniss, was Polena. Her 
husband had, at his death, left her ten thousand 
dollars in her own right, and she owned bonds and 
had money in the Wellmouth Bank. Nobody, not 
even her brother, was allowed to talk to her in 
that fashion. 

To tell the truth, Obed was sorry he had of- 
fended his sister. He had been throwing out 
hints of late as to the necessity of building an 
addition to the paint and oil store, and had 
cast a longing look upon a portion of Polena’s 
ten thousand. The lady had not promised to ex- 
tend the financial aid, but she had gone so far 
as to say she would think about it. So Obed 
regretted his insinuations against the Major’s 
integrity. 

After a while he threw the account books upon 
the top of the chest of drawers, put on his hat and 
coat and announced that he was going over to the 
depot for a “ spell.” Polena did not deign to re- 
90 


THE MAJOR 

ply, so, after repeating the observation, he went 
out and slammed the door. 

Now, two hours later, as he stood in the door- 
way of the club, he was debating what he should 
do in a certain matter. That matter concerned 
Major Hardee and was, therefore, an extremely 
delicate one. At length Mr. Gott climbed the 
narrow stairs and entered the clubroom. It was 
blue with tobacco smoke. 

The six or eight members present hailed him 
absently and went on with their games of checkers 
or “ seven-up.” He attempted a game of checkers 
and lost, which did not tend to make his temper 
any sweeter. His ill nature was so apparent that 
Beriah Higgins, who suffered from dyspepsia and 
consequent ill temper, finally commented upon it. 

“ What’s the matter with you, Obed? ” he 
asked tartly. “ Too much of P’lena’s mince pie? ” 
“No,” grunted Mr. Gott shortly. 

“ What is it, then? Ain’t paint sellin’ well? ” 
“ Sellin’ well ’nough. I could sejl a hundred 
ton of paint to-morrow, more’n likely, but when it 
come to gittin’ the money for it, that would be 
another story. If folks would pay their bills there 
wouldn’t be no trouble.” 

“ Who’s stuck you now? ” 

“ I don’t s’pose anybody has, but it’s just as 
bad when they don’t pay up. I’ve got to have 
money to keep a-goin’ with. It don’t make no 
diff’renocr if 't’s as good a customer as Major Har- 

91 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


dee; he ought to remember that we ain’t all rich 
like him and ” 

A general movement among all the club mem- 
bers interrupted him. The checker players left 
their boards and came over; the “seven-up” 
devotees dropped their cards and joined the circle. 

“What was that you said?” asked Hig- 
gins, uneasily. “ The Major owin’ you money, 
was it? ” 

“ Oh, course I know he’s all right and a fine 
man and all that,” protested Obed, feeling himself 
put on the defensive. “ But that ain’t it. What’s, 
a feller goin’ to do when he needs the money and 
gets a letter like that? ” 

He drew the crumpled sheet of note paper 
from his pocket, and threw it on the table. Hig- 
gins picked it up and read it aloud, as follows : 

SiLVERLEAF Hall, June 2oth. 

My Dear Mr. Gott : I am in receipt of your courte- 
ous communication of recent date. I make it an unvary- 
ing rule to keep little ready money here in East Harniss, 
preferring rather to let it remain at interest in the finan- 
cial institutions of the cities. Another rule of mine, pecul- 
iar, I dare say — even eccentric, if you like — is never to 
pay by check. I am expecting remittances from my attor- 
neys, however, and will then bear you in mind. Again 
thanking you for your courtesy, and begging you to extend 
to your sister my kindest regards, I remain, my dear sir. 
Yours very respectfully, 

CUTHBERTSON ScOTT HaRDEE. • 

P. S. — I shall be delighted to have the pleasure of 
entertaining your sister and yourself at dinner at the 
92 


THE MAJOR 

hall on any date agreeable to you. Kindly let me hear 
from you regarding this at your earliest convenience. I 
must insist upon this privilege, so do not disappoint me, 
I beg. 

The reception accorded this most gentlemanly 
epistle was peculiar. Mr. Higgins laid it upon 
the table and put his hand into his own pocket. 
So did Ezra Weeks, the butcher; Caleb Small, the 
dry goods dealer; “ Hen ” Leadbetter, the livery 
stable keeper; “ Bash ” Taylor, the milkman, and 
three or four others. And, wonder of wonders, 
each produced a sheet of note paper exactly like 
Obed’s. 

They spread them out on the table. The dates 
were, of course, different, and they differed in 
other minor particulars, but in the main they were 
exactly alike. And each one of them ended with 
an invitation to dinner. 

The members of the club looked at each other 
in amazement. Higgins was the first to speak. 

“ Godfrey mighty I ” he exclaimed. “ Say, 
this is funny, ain’t it? It’s more’n funny; it’s 
queer I By jiminy, it’s more’n that — it’s serious I 
Look here, fellers; is there anybody in this crowd 
that the Major’s paid for anything any time? ” 

They waited. No one spoke. Then, with 
one impulse, every face swung about and looked 
up to where, upon the wall, hung the life-size 
photograph of the Major, dignified, gracious, and 
gilt-framed. It had been presented to the club 
93 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

two months before by Cuthbertson Scott Hardee, 
himself. 

** Ike — Ike Peters,” said Higgins. “ Say, Ike 
— has he ever paid you for havin’ that took? ” 

Mr. Peters, who was the town photographer, 
reddened, hesitated, and then stammered, “ Why, 
no, he ain’t, yet.” 

“Humph!” grunted Higgins. No one else 
said anything. One or two took out pocket memo- 
randum books and went over some figures entered 
therein. Judging by their faces the results of 
these calculations were not pleasing. Obed was 
the first to break the painful silence : 

“Well!” he exclaimed, sarcastically; “ain’t 
nobody got nothin’ to say? If they ain’t, I have. 
Or, at any rate. I’ve got somethin’ to do.” And 
he rose and started to put on his coat. 

“Hi! hold on a minute, Obed, you loon!” 
cried Higgins. “ Where are you goin’? ” 

“ I’m goin’ to put my bill in Squire Baker’s 
hands for c’lection, and I’m goin’ to do it to- 
night, too.” 

He was on his way to the door, but two or 
three ran to stop him. 

“ Don’t be a fool, Obed,” said Higgins. 
“ Don’t go off ha’f cocked. Maybe we’re gittin’ 
scared about nothin’. We don’t know but we’ll 
get every cent that’s owed us.” 

“ Don’t know! Well, I ain’t goin’ to wait to 
find out. What makes me b’ilin’ is to think how 
94 


THE MAJOR 

weVe set still and let a man that we never saw 
afore last March, and don’t know one blessed 
thing about, run up bills and run ’em up. How 
we come to be such everlastin’ fools I don’t see! 
What did we let him have the stuff for? Why 

didn’t we make him pay? I ” 

“ Now see here, Obed Gott,” broke in Weeks, 
the butcher, “ you know why just as well as we do. 
Why, blast it! ” he added earnestly, “ if he was to 
come into my shop to-morrow and tip that old high 
hat of his, and smile and say ’twas a fine mornin’ 
and ‘ How’s the good lady to-day? ’ and all that, 
he’d get ha’f the meat there was in the place, and 
I wouldn’t say ‘ Boo ’ ! I jest couldn’t, that’s all.” 

This frank statement was received with ap- 
proving nods and a chorus of muttered That’s 
so’s.” 

“ It looks to me this way,” declared Higgins. 
“ If the Major’s all right, he’s a mighty good cus- 
tomer for all of us. If he ain’t all right, we’ve got 
to find it out, but we’re in too deep to run resks of 
gettin’ him mad ’fore we know for sure. Let’s 
think it over for a week. Inside of that time 
some of us’ll hint to him, polite but firm, you un- 
derstand, that we’ve got to have something on ac- 
count. A week from to-night we’ll meet in the 
back room of my store, talk it over and decide 
what to do. What do you say? ” 

Everybody but Obed agreed. He declared 
that he had lost money enough and wasn’t going 
95 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


to be a fool any longer. The others argued with 
him patiently for a while and then Leadbetter, the 
livery stable keeper, said sharply: 

“See here, Obe! You ain’t the only one in 
this. How much does the Major owe you ? ” 

“ Pretty nigh twenty dollars.” 

“ Humph! You’re lucky. He owes. me over 
thirty, and T guess Higgins is worse off than any 
of us. Ain’t that so, Beriah? ” 

“ About seventy, even money,” answered the 
grocer, shortly. “ No use, Obed, we’ve got to 
hang together. Wait a week and then see. And, 
fellers,” he added, “ don’t tell a soul about this 
business, ’specially the women folks. There ain’t 
a woman nor girl in this town that don’t think 
Major Hardee’s an Ai, gold-plated saint, and 
’twouldn’t be safe to break the spell on a guess.” 

Obed reached home even more disgruntled than 
when he left it. He sat up until after twelve, 
thinking and smoking, and when he went to bed 
he had a brilliant idea. The next morning he 
wrote a letter and posted it. 


CHAPTER V 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 

T he morning train for Boston, at that sea- 
son of the year, reached East Harniss at 
five minutes to six, an “ ungodly hour,” 
according to the irascible Mr. Ogden Williams, 
who, in company with some of his wealthy friends, 
the summer residents, was petitioning the railroad 
company for a change in the time-table. When 
Captain Sol Berry, the depot master, walked 
briskly down Main Street the morning following 
Mr. GotPs eventful evening at the club, the hands 
of the clock on the Methodist church tower indi- 
cated that the time was twenty minutes to six. 

Issy McKay was already at the depot, the 
doors of which were open. Captain Sol entered 
the waiting room and unlocked the ticket rack and 
the little safe. Issy, languidly toying with the 
broom on the front platform, paused in his pre- 
tense of sweeping and awaited permission to go 
home for breakfast. It came, in characteristic 
fashion. 

How’s the salt air affectin’ your appetite, 
Is ? ” asked the Captain, casually. 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Issy, who, being intensely serious by nature, 
was uneasy when he suspected the presence of a 
joke, confusedly stammered that he cal’lated his 
appetite was all right, 

“ Payin’ for the Major’s glass ain’t kept you 
awake worryin’, has it?” 

“ No-o, sir. I ” 

“ P’r’aps you thought he was the one to do 
the worryin’, hey?” 

“ I — I don’t know.” 

“ Well, what’s your folks goin’ to have to eat 
this mornin’? ” 

Issy admitted his belief that fried clams were 
to be the breakfast. 

“So? Clams? Is, did you ever read the . 
soap advertisement about not bein’ a clam?” 

“ I — I don’t know’s I ever did. No, sir.” 

“All right; I only called your attention to it 
as a warnin’, that’s all. When anybody eats as 
many clams as you do there’s a fair chance of his 
turnin’ into one. Now clear out, and don’t stay 
so long at breakfast that you can’t get back in time 
for dinner. Trot!” 

Issy trotted. The depot master seated him- 
self by the door of the ticket office and fell into a 
reverie. It was interrupted by the entrance of 
Hiram Baker. Captain Hiram was an ex-fishing 
skipper, fifty-five years of age, who, with his wife, 
Sophronia, and their infant son, Hiram Joash 
Baker, lived in a small, old-fashioned house at the 
98 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


other end of the village, near the shore. Captain 
Hiram, having retired from the sea, got his living, 
such as it was, from his string of fish traps, 
or “ weirs.” 

The depot master hailed the new arrival 
heartily. 

“ Hello, there, Hiram ! ” he cried, rising from 
his chair. ‘‘ Glad to see you once in a while. 
Ain’t goin’ to leave us, are you? Not goin’ 
abroad for your health, or anything of that 
kind, hey? ” 

Captain Baker laughed. 

“ No,” he answered. “ No further abroad 
than Hyannis. And I’ll be back from there to- 
night, if the Lord’s willin’ and the cars don’t get 
off the track. Give me a round trip ticket, will 
you, Sol? ” 

The depot master retired to the office, return- 
ing with the desired ticket. Captain Hiram 
counted out the price from a confused mass of cop- 
pers and silver, emptied into his hand from a 
blackened leather purse, tied with a string. 

“ How’s Sophrony? ” asked the depot master. 
“ Pretty smart, I hope.” 

‘‘ Yup, she’s smart. Has to be to keep up 
with the rest of the family — ’specially the 
youngest.” 

He chuckled. His friend laughed in 
sympathy. 

“ The youngest is the most important of all, 

99 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


I s’pose/’ he observed. “ How is the junior part- 
ner of H. Baker and Son ? ’’ 

“ He ain’t a silent partner, I’ll swear to that. 
Honest, Sol, I b’lieve my ‘ Dusenberry ’ is the cut- 
est young one outside of a show. I said so only 
yesterday to Mr. Hilton, the minister. I did, and 
I meant it.” 

“ Well, we’re all gettin’ ready to celebrate his 
birthday. Ho, ho ! ” 

This was a standard joke and was so recog- 
nized and honored. A baby bom on the Fourth 
of July is sure of a national celebration of his 
birthday. And to Captain Baker and his wife, no 
celebration, however widespread, could do justice 
to the importance of the occasion. When, to an- 
swer the heart longings of the child-loving couple 
married many years, the baby came, he was ac- 
cepted as a special dispensation of Providence and 
valued accordingly. 

“ He’s got a real nice voice, Hiram,” said 
Sophronia, gazing proudly at the prodigy, who, 
clutched gingerly in his father’s big hands, was 
screaming his little red face black. “ I shouldn’t 
wonder if he grew up to sing in the choir.” 

“ That’s the kind of voice to make a fo’mast 
hand step lively I ” declared Hiram. “ You’ll see 
this boy on the quarter deck of a clipper one of 
these days.” 

Naming him was a portentous proceeding and 
one not to be lightly gone about. Sophronia, who 
100 


A BABY AND, A ROBBERY 


was a Methodist by descent and early confirmation, 
was of the opinion that the child should have a 
Bible name. 

The Captain respected his wife’s wishes, but 
put in an ardent plea for his own name, Hiram. 

“ There’s been a Hiram Baker in our family 
ever since Noah h’isted the main-r’yal on the ark,” 
he declared. “ I’d kinder like to keep the pro- 
cession a-goin’.” 

They compromised by agreeing to make the 
baby’s Christian name Hiram and to add a middle 
name selected at random from the Scriptures. 
The big, rickety family Bible was taken from the 
center table and opened with shaking fingers by 
Mrs. Baker. She read aloud the first sentence 
that met her eye: “ The son of Joash.” 

“ Joash! ” sneered her husband. “ You ain’t 
goin’ to cruelize him with that name, be you? ” 
Hiram Baker, do you dare to fly in the face 
of Scriptur’ ? ” 

“ All right! Have it your own way. Go to 
sleep now, Hiram Joash, while I sing * Storm 
along, John,’ to you.” 

Little Hiram Joash punched the minister’s 
face with his fat fist when he was christened, to 
the great scandal of his mother and the ill-con- 
cealed delight of his father. 

“ Can’t blame the child none,” declared the 
Captain. ” I’d punch anybody that christened a 
middle name like that onto me.” 


lOI 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


But, in spite of his name, the baby grew and 
prospered. He fell out of his crib, of course, the 
moment that he was able, and barked his shins over 
the big shells by the what-not in the parlor the first 
time that he essayed to creep. He teethed with 
more or less tribulation, and once upset the house- 
hold by an attack of the croup. 

They gave up calling him by his first name, 
because of the Captain’s invariably answering when 
the baby was wanted and not answering when he 
himself was wanted. Sophronia would have liked 
to call him Joash, but her husband wouldn’t hear 
of it. At length the father took to calling him 
“ Dusenberry,” and this nickname was adopted 
under protest. 

Captain Hiram sang the baby to sleep every 
night. There were three songs in the Captain’s 
repertoire. The first was a chanty with a 
chorus of 

John, storm along, storm along, John, 

Ain’t I glad my day’s work’s done. 

The second was the “ Bowline Song.” 

Haul on the bowline, the *Phrony is a-rollin’, 

Haul on the bowline! the bowline haul! 

At the “ haul 1 ” the Captain’s foot would come 
down with a thump. Almost the first word little 
Hiram Joash learned was “ haul! ” He used to 
shout it and kick his father vigorously in the vest. 

102 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


These were fair-weather songs. Captain 
Hiram sang them when everything was going 
smoothly. The “ Bowline Song ’’ indicated that he 
was feeling particularly jubilant. He had another 
that he sang when he was worried. It was a lugu- 
brious ditty, with a refrain beginning: 

Oh, sailor boy, sailor boy, ’neath the wild billow. 

Thy grave is yawnin’ and waitin’ for thee. 

He sang this during the worst of the teething 
period, and, later, when the junior partner wrestled 
with the whooping cough. You could always tell 
the state of the baby’s health by the Captain’s 
choice of songs. 

Meanwhile Dusenberry grew and prospered. 
He learned to walk and to talk, after his own 
peculiar fashion, and, at the mature age of two 
years and six months, formally shipped as first 
mate aboard his father’s dory. His duties in this 
responsible position were to sit in the stern, se- 
curely fastened by a strap, while the Captain and 
his two assistants rowed out over the bar to haul 
the nets of the deep water fish weir. 

The first mate gave the orders, “ All hands 
on deck! ’Tand by to det ship under way!” 
There was no “ sogerin’ ” aboard the Hiram Jun- 
ior — that was the dory’s name — ^while the first of- 
ficer had command. 

Captain Hiram, always ready to talk of the 
wonderful baby, told the depot master of the 
103 


THE DEPOT xMASTER 


youngster’s latest achievement, which was to get 
the cover off the butter firkin in the pantry and 
cover himself with butter from head to heel. 

“ Ho, ho, ho ! ” he roared, delightedly, “ when 
Sophrony caught him at it, what do you s’pose he 
said? Said he was playin’ he was a slice of bread 
and was spreadin’ himself. Haw I haw ! ” 

Captain Sol laughed in sympathy. 

But he didn’t mean no harm by it,” explained 
the proud father. “ He’s got the tenderest little 
heart in the world. When he found his ma felt 
bad he bust out cryin’ and said he’d scrape it all 
off again and when it come prayer time he’d tell 
God who did it, so He’d know ’twa’n’t mother that 
wasted the nice butter. What do you think of 
that?” 

“ No use talkin’, Hiram,” said the depot mas- 
ter, “ that’s the kind of boy to have.” 

“ You bet you ! Hello ! here’s the tr in. On 
time, for a wonder. See you later, Sol. \ ou take 
my advice, get married and have a boy oJ your 
own. Nothin’ like one for solid comfort.” 

The train was coming and they went out to 
meet it. The only passenger to alight was Mr. 
Barzilla Wingate, whose arrival had been foretold 
by Bailey Stitt the previous evening. Barzilla was 
part owner of a good-sized summer hotel at Well- 
mouth Neck. He and the depot master were old 
friends. 

After the train had gone Wingate and Captain 
104 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 

Sol entered the station together. The Captain had 
insisted that his friend come home with him to 
breakfast, instead of going to the hotel. After 
some persuasion Barzilla agreed. So they sat 
down to await Issy’s arrival. The depot master 
could not leave the station until the “ assistant ” 
arrived. 

“ Well, Barzilla,” asked Captain Sol, what’s 
the newest craze over to the hotel? ” 

“ The newest,” said Wingate, with a grin, ** is 
automobiles.” 

“Automobiles? Why, I thought ’twas base- 
ball.” 

“ Baseball was last summer. We had a cham- 
pionship team then. Yes, sir, we won out, though 
for a spell it looked pretty dubious. But base- 
ball’s an old story. We’ve had football since, and 
now ” 

“ Wait a minute! Football? Why, now I do 
remember. You had a football team there and — 
and wa’n’t there somethin’ queer, some sort of a — 
a robbery, or stealin’, or swindlin’ connected with 
it? Seems’s if I’d heard somethin’ like that.” 

Mr. Wingate looked hi^v^riend over, winked, 
and asked a question. 

“ Sol,” he said, “ you ain’t forgot how to keep 
a secret? ” 

The depot master smiled. “ I guess not,” he 
said. 

“ Well, then. I’m goin’ to trust you with one. 

8 105 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


I’m goin’ to tell you the whole business about that 
robbin’. It’s all mixed up with football and mil- 
lionaires and things — and it’s a dead secret, the 
truth of it. So when I tell you it mustn’t go no 
further. 

“ You see,” he went on, “ it was late into Au- 
gust when Peter T. was took down with the in- 
spiration. Not that there was anything ’specially 
new in his bein’ took. He was subject to them 
seizures, Peter was, and every time they broke out 
in a fresh place. The Old Home House itself 
was one of his inspirations, so was the hirin’ of 
college waiters, the openin’ of the two ‘ Annex ’ 
cottages, the South Shore Weather Bureau, and 
a whole lot more. Sometimes, as in the weather- 
bureau foolishness, the disease left him and t’other 
two patients — meanin’ me and Cap’n Jonadab — 
pretty weak in the courage, and wasted in the 
pocketbook; but. gen’rally they turned out good, 
and our systems and bank accounts was more 
healthy than normal. One of Peter T.’s inspira- 
tions was consider’ble like typhoid fever — if you 
did get over it, you felt better for havin’ had it. 

• “ This time the attack was in the shape of a 
‘ supplementary season.’ ’Twas Peter’s idea that 
shuttin’ up the Old Home the fust week in Septem- 
ber was altogether too soon. 

“ ‘ What’s the use of quittin’,’ says he, ‘ while 
there’s bait left and the fish are bitin’? Why not 
keep her goin’ through September and October? 
io6 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


Two or three ads — my ads — in the papers, hintin’ 
that the ducks and wild geese are beginnin’ to keep 
the boarders awake by roostin’ in the back yard 
and hollerin’ at night — two or three of them, and 
we’ll have gunners here by the regiment. Other 
summer hotels do it, the Wapatomac House and 
the rest, so why not us? It hurts my conscience 
to see good money gettin’ past the door ’count of 
the ‘‘Not at Home ” sign hung on the knob. 
What d’you say, partners? ’ says he. 

“ Well, we had consider’ble to say, partic’lar 
Cap’n Jonadab. ’Twas too risky and too expen- 
sive. Gunnin’ was all right except for one thing 
— that is, that there wa’n’t none wuth mentionin’. 

“ ‘ Ducks are scurser round here than Demo- 
crats in a Vermont town-meetin’,’ growled the 
Cap’n. ‘ And as for geese ! How long has it been 
since you see a goose, Barzilla ? ’ 

“ ‘ Land knows ! ’ says I. ‘I can remember 
as fur back as the fust time Washy Sparrow left 

off workin’, but I can’t ’ ' 

“ Brown told us to shut up. Did we cal’late 
he didn’t know what he was talkin’ about? 

“ ‘ I can see two geese right now,’ he snaps; 
‘ but they’re so old anddeather-headed you couldn’t 
shoot an idea into their brains with a cannon. 
Gunnin’ ain’t the whole thing. My makin’ a 
noise like a duck is only to get the would-be Teddy 
Roosevelts headed for this neck of the woods. 
After they get here, it’s up to us to keep ’em. And 
‘ 107 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


I can think of as many ways to do that as the 
Cap’n can of savin’ a quarter. Our baseball team’s 
been a success, ain’t it? Sure thing! Then why 
not a football team? Parker sa)^s he’ll get it to- 
gether, and coach and cap’n it, too. And Robin- 
son and his daughter have agreed to stay till Oc- 
tober fifteenth. So there’s a start, anyhow.’ 

’Twas a start, and a pretty good one. The 
Robinsons had come to the Old Home about the 
fust of August, and they was our star boarders. 
* G. W. Robinson ’ was the old man’s name as 
entered on the hotel log, and his daughter an- 
swered to the hail of ‘ Grace ’ — that is, when she 
took a notion to answer at all. The Robinsons 
was what Peter T. called ‘ exclusive.* They didn’t 
mix much with the rest of the bunch, but kept to 
themselves in their rooms, partic’lar when a fresh 
net full of boarders was hauled aboard. Then 
they seemed to take an observation of every ar- 
rival afore they mingled; questioned the pedigree 
and statistics of all hands, and acted mighty sus- 
picious. 

The only thing that really stirred Papa Rob- 
inson up and got him excited and friendly was 
baseball and boat racin’. He was an old sport, 
that was plain, the only real plain thing about 
him; the rest was mystery. As for Grace, she 
wa’n’t plain by a good sight, bein’ what Brown 
called a ‘ peach.’ She could have had every sin- 
gle male in tow if she’d wanted ’em. Apparently 
io8 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


she didn’t want ’em, preferrin’ to be lonesome and 
sad and interestin’. Yes, sir, there was a mys- 
tery about them Robinsons, and even Peter T. 
give in to that. 

“ ‘ If ’twas anybody else,’ says he, ‘ I’d say the 
old man was a crook, down here hidin’ from the 
police. But he’s too rich for that, and always 
has been. He ain’t any fly-by-night. I can tell 
the real article without lookin’ for the “ sterlin’ ” 
mark on the handle. But I’ll bet all the cold- 
storage eggs in the hotel against the henyard — 
and that’s big odds — that he wa’n’t christened 
Robinson. And his face is familiar to me. I’ve 
seen it somewhere, either in print or in person. I 
wish I knew where.’ 

“ So if the Robinsons had agreed to stay — 
them and their two servants — that was a big help, 
as Brown said. And Parker would help, too, 
though we agreed there wa’n’t no mystery about 
him. He was a big, broad-shouldered young fel- 
ler just out of college somewheres, who had 
drifted our way the fortni’t after the Robinsons 
came, with a reputation for athletics and a leanin’ 
toward cigarettes and Miss Grace. She leaned a 
little, too, but hers wa’n’t so much of a bend as his 
was. He was dead gone on her, and if she’d have 
decided to stay under water, he’d have ducked 
likewise. ’Twas easy enough to see why he be- 
lieved in a ‘ supplementary season.’ 

** Me and Jonadab argued it out with Peter, 
109 


THE DEPOT MASTEPv 


and finally we met halfway, so’s to speak. We 
wouldn’t keep the whole shebang open, but we’d 
shut up everything but one Annex cottage, and 
advertise that as a Gunner’s Retreat. So we 
done it. 

“And it worked. Heavens to Betsy — yes! It 
worked so well that by the second week in Septem- 
ber we had to open t’other Annex. The gunnin’ 
was bad, but Peter’s ads fetched the would-be’s, 
and his ‘ excursions ’ and picnics and the football 
team held ’em. The football team especial. 
Parker cap’ned that, and, from the gunnin’ crew 
and the waiters and some fishermen in the village, 
he dug up an eleven that showed symptoms of 
playin’ the game. We played the Trumet High 
School, and beat it, thanks to Parker, and that 
tickled Pa Robinson so that he bought a two- 
handled silver soup tureen — ‘ lovin’ cup,’ he 
called it — and agreed to give it to the team round 
about that won the most of the series. So the 
series was arranged, the Old Home House crowd 
and the Wapatomac House eleven and three high- 
school gangs bein’ in it. And ’twas practice, prac- 
tice, practice, from then on. 

“When we opened the second Annex, the ques- 
tion of help got serious. Most of our college 
waiters had gone back to school, and we was 
pretty shy of servants. So we put some extry ad- 
vertisin’ in the Cape weeklies, and trusted in 
Providence. 


I 10 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


“ The evenin’ followin’ the ad in the weeklies, 
I was settin’ smokin’ on the back piazza of the 
shut-up main hotel, when I heard the gate click 
and somebody crunchin’ along the clam-shell path. 
I sung out : ‘ Ahoy, there ! ’ and the cruncher, who- 
ever he was, come my way. Then I made out that 
he was a tall young chap, with his hands in his 
pockets. 

“ ‘ Good evenin’,’ says he. * Is this Mr. 
Brown ? ’ 

“ ‘ Thankin’ you for the compliment, it ain’t,’ 
I says. ‘ My name’s Wingate.’ 

“‘Ohl’ says he. ‘Is that so? I’ve heard 
father speak of you, Mr. Wingate. He is Solo- 
mon Bearse, of West Ostable. I think you know 
him slightly.’ 

“ Know him? Everybody on the Cape knows 
Sol Bearse; by reputation, anyhow. He’s the rich- 
est, meanest old cranberry grower and coastin’- 
fleet owner in these parts. 

“‘Is Sol Bearse your dad? ’ I asks, astonished. 
‘ Why, then, you must be Gus ? ’ 

“ ‘ No,’ he says. ‘ I’m the other one — Fred.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, the college one. The one who’s goin’ 
to be a lawyer.’ 

“ ‘ Well, yes — ^and no,’ says he. ‘ I was the 
college one, as you call it, but I’m not goin’ to be 
a lawyer. Father and I have had some talk on 
that subject, and I think we’ve settled it. I — well, 
just at present. I’m not sure what I’m goin’ to be. 

1 1 1 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


That’s what I’ve come to you for. I saw your 
ad in the Item, and — I want a job.’ 

“ I was set all aback, and left with my canvas 
flappin’, as you might say. Sol Bearse’s boy hunt- 
in’ a job in a hotel kitchen ! Soon’s I could fetch 
a whole breath, I wanted partic’lars. He give ’em 
to me. 

“ Seems he’d been sent out to one of the col- 
leges in the Middle West by his dad, who was dead 
set on havin’ a lawyer in the family. But the more 
he studied, the less he hankered for law. What 
he wanted to be was a literature — a book-agent 
or a poet, or some such foolishness. Old Sol, hav- 
in’ no more use for a poet than he had for a poor 
relation, was red hot in a minute. Was this what 
he’d been droppin’ good money in the education 
collection box for? Was this — etcetery and so on. 
He’d be — what the church folks say he will be — 
if Fred don’t go in for law. Fred, he comes back 
that he’ll be the same if he does. So they dis- 
owned each other by mutual consent, as the Irish- 
man said, and the boy marches out of the front 
door, bag and baggage. And, as the poetry mar- 
ket seemed to be sort of overly supplied at the 
present time, he decided he must do somethin’ to 
earn a dollar, and, seein’ our ad, he comes to 
Wellmouth Port and the Old Home. 

“ ‘ But look here,’ says I, ‘ we ain’t got no job 
for a literary. We need fellers to pass pie and 
wash dishes. And that ain’t no poem.’ 

I 12 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


“ Well, he thought perhaps he could help make 
up advertisin’. 

“ ‘ You can’t,’ I told him. ‘ One time, when 
Peter T. Brown was away, me and Cap’n Jonadab 
cal’lated that a poetry advertisement would be a 
good idee and we managed to shake out ten lines 
or so. It begun: 

“ When you’re feelin’ tired and pale 
To the Old Home House you ought to come without 
fail.” 

“ ‘ We thought ’twas pretty slick, but we never 
got but one answer, and that was a circular from 
one of them correspondence schools of authors, 
sayin’ they’d let us in on a course at cut rates. 
And the next thing we knew we see that poem in 
the joke page of a Boston paper. I never ’ 

“ He laughed, quiet and sorrowful. He had 
the quietest way of speakin’, anyhow, and his 
voice was a lovely tenor. To hear it purrin’ out 
of his big, tall body was as unexpected as a hymn 
tune in a cent-in-the-slot talkin’ machine. 

“ ‘ Too bad,’ he says. ‘ As a waiter, I’m 
afraid ’ 

“Just then the door of one of the Annex houses 
opened sudden, and there stood Grace Robinson. 
The light behind her showed her up plain as could 
be. I heard Fred Bearse make a kind of gaspin’ 
noise in his throat. 

What a lovely night ! ’ she says, half to her- 

113 


H I 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


self. Then she calls : ‘ Papa, dear, you really 
ought to see the stars.’ 

“ Old man Robinson, who I judged was in the 
settin’ room, snarled out somethin’ which wa’n’t 
no compliment to the stars. Then he ordered her 
to come in afore she catched cold. She sighed and 
obeyed orders, shuttin’ the door astern of her. 
Next thing I knew that literary tenor grabbed my 
arm — ’twa’n’t no canary-bird grip, neither. 

“ ‘ Who was that? ’ he whispers, eager. 

“ I told him. ‘ That’s the name they give,’ 
says I, ‘ but we have doubts about its bein’ the 
real one. You see, there’s some mystery about 
them Robinsons, and ’ 

“ ‘ I’ll take that waiter’s place,’ he says, quick. 
‘ Shall I go right in and begin now? Don’t stop 
to argue, man; I say I’ll take it.’ 

“ And he did take it by main strength, pretty 
nigh. Every time I’d open my mouth he’d shut it 
up, and at last I give in, and showed him where 
he could sleep. 

“ ‘ You turn out at five sharp,’ I told him. 
* And you needn’t bother to write no poems while 
you’re dressin’, neither.’ 

“ ‘ Good night,’ he answers, brisk. ‘ Go, will 
you, please ? I want to think.’ 

“ I went. ’Tain’t until an hour later that I re- 
membered he hadn’t asked one word concernin’ 
the wages. And next mornin’ he comes to me and 
suggests that perhaps ’twould be as well if I didn’t 
114 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


tell his real name. He was pretty sure he’d been 
away schoolin’ so long that he wouldn’t be recog- 
nized. ‘ And incognitos seem to be fashionable 
here,’ he purrs, soft and gentle. 

“ I wouldn’t know an incognito if I stepped on 
one, but the tenor voice of him kind of made me 
sick. 

“ ‘ All right,’ I snaps, sarcastic. ‘ Suppose I 
call you “ Willie.” How’ll that do? ’ 

“ ‘ Do as well as anything, I guess,’ he says. 
Didn’t make no odds to him. If I’d have called 
him ‘ Maud,’ he’d have been satisfied. 

“ He waited in Annex Number Two, which 
was skippered by Cap’n Jonadab. And, for a 
poet, he done pretty well, so the Cap’n said. 

“ ‘But say, Barzilla,’ asks Jonadab, ‘ does that 
Willie thing know the Robinsons ? ’ 

“ ‘ Guess not,’ I says. But, thinkin’ of the way 
he’d acted when the girl come to the door: 
‘Why?’ 

“ ‘ Oh, nothin’ much. Only when he come in 
with the doughnuts the fust mornin’ at breakfast, 
I thought Grace sort of jumped and looked funny. 
Anyhow, she didn’t eat nothin’ after that. P’r’aps 
that was on account of her bein’ out sailin’ the day 
afore, though.’ 

“ I said I cal’lated that was it, but all the same 
I was interested. And when, a day or so later, I 
see Grace and Willie talkin’ together earnest, out 
back of the kitchen, I was more so. But I never 

115 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


said nothin’. I’ve been seafarin’ long enough to 
know when to keep my main hatch closed. 

“ The supplementary season dragged along, 
but it wa’n’t quite the success it looked like at the 
start. The gunnin’ that year was even worse than 
usual, and excursions and picnics in late September 
ain’t all joy, by no manner of means. We shut up 
the second Annex at the end of the month, and 
transferred the help to Number One. Precious few 
new boarders come, and a good many of the old 
ones quit. Them that did stay, stayed on account 
of the football. We was edgin’ up toward the 
end of the series, and our team and the Wapato- 
mac crowd was neck and neck. It looked as if 
the final game between them and us, over on their 
grounds, would settlp who’d have the soup tureen. 

“ Pa Robinson and Parker had been quite in- 
terested in Willie when he fust come. They 
thought he might play with the eleven, you see. 
But he wouldn’t. Set his foot right down. 

“ ‘ I don’t care for athletics,’ he says, mild but 
firm. ‘ They used to interest me somewhat, but 
not now.’ 

“ The old man was crazy. He’d heard about 
Willie’s literature leanin’s, and he give out that 
he’d never see a writer yet that wa’n’t a ‘ sissy.’ 
Wanted us to fire Bearse right off, but we kept 
him, thanks to me. If he’d seen the ‘ sissy ’ kick 
the ball once, same as I did, it might have changed 
his mind some. He was passin’ along the end of 
1 16 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


the field when the gang was practicin’, and the 
ball come his way. He caught it on the fly, and 
sent it back with his toe. It went a mile, seemed 
so, whirlin’ and whizzin’. Willie never even 
looked to see where it went; just kept on his course 
for the kitchen. 

‘‘ The big sensation hit us on the fifth of Octo- 
ber, right after supper. Me and Peter T. and 
Jonadab was in the office, when down comes 
Henry, old Robinson’s man servant, white as a 
sheet and wringin’ his hands distracted. 

“ ‘ Oh, I say, Mr. Brown ! ’ says he, shakin’ all 
over like a quicksand. ‘Oh, Mr. Brown, sir! 
Will you come right up to Mr. Sterz — I mean 
Mr. Robinson’s room, please, sir! ’E wants to 
see you gentlemen special. ’Urry, please! 
’Urry! ’ 

“ So we ‘ ’urried,’ wonderin’ what on earth was 
the matter. And when we got to the Robinson 
rooms, there was Grace, lookin’ awful pale, and 
the old man himself ragin’ up and down like a 
horse mack’rel in a fish weir. 

“Soon as papa sees us, he jumped up in the air, 
so’s to speak, and when he lit ’twas right on our 
necks. His daughter, who seemed to be the san- 
est one in the lot, run and shut the door. 

“ ‘ Look here, you ! ’ raved the old gent, shak- 
in’ both fists under Peter T.’s nose. ‘ Didn’t you 
tell me this was a respectable hotel? And ain’t 
we payin’ for respectability?’ 

117 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Peter admitted it, bein’ too much set back to 
argue, I cal’late. 

“‘Yes!’ rages Robinson. ‘We pay enough 
for all the respectability in this state. And yet, 
by the livin’ Moses! I can’t go out of my room 
to spoil my digestion with your cussed dried-apple 
pie, but what Pm robbed ! ’ 

“ ‘ Robbed ! ’ the three of us gurgles in chorus. 

“‘Yes, sir! Robbed! Robbed! Robbed! 
What do you think I came here for? And why 
do I stay here all this time? ’Cause I like it? 
’Cause I can’t afford a better place? No, sir! By 
the great horn spoon! I come here because I 
thought in this forsaken hole I could get lost and 
be safe. And now ’ 

“ He tore around like a water spout, Grace 
trying to calm him, and Henry and Suzette, the 
maid, groanin’ and sobbin’ accompaniments in the 
corner. I looked at the dresser. There was sil- 
ver-backed brushes and all sorts of expensive doo- 
dads spread out loose, and Miss Robinson’s watch 
and a di’mond ring, and a few other knickknacks. 
I couldn’t imagine a thief’s leavin’ all that truck, 
and I said so. 

“‘Them?’ sputters Pa, frantic. ‘What the 
brimstone blazes do you think I care for them? I 
could buy that sort of stuff by the car-load, if I 
wanted to. But what’s been stole is — Oh, get 
out and leave me alone! You’re no good, the lot 
of you ! ’ 


Ii8 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


“ ‘ Father has had a valuable paper stolen 
from him,’ explains Grace. ‘ A very valuable 
paper.’ 

“‘Valuable!’ howls her dad. ^Valuable! 
Why, if Gordon and his gang get that paper, 
they’ve got me^ that’s all. Their suit’s as good as 
won, and I know it. And to think that I’ve kept 
it safe up to within a month of the trial, and 
now — Grace Sterzer, you stop pattin’ my head. 
I’m no pussy-cat! By the — ’ And so on, indefi- 
nite. 

“ When he called his daughter Sterzer, instead 
of Robinson, I cal’lated he was loony, sure 
enough. But Peter T. slapped his leg. 

“ ‘ Oh ! ’ he says, as if he’d seen a light all to 
once. ‘ Ah, now I begin to get wise. I knew your 
face was — See here, Mr. Sterzer — Mr. Gabriel 
Sterzer — don’t you think we’d better have a real, 
plain talk on this matter? Let’s get down to 
tacks. Was the paper you lost something to do 
with the Sterzer-Gordon lawsuit? The Alu- 
minum Trust case, you know?’ 

“ The old man stopped dancin’, stared at him 
hard, and then set down and wiped his forehead. 

“‘Something to do with it?’ he groans. 
‘ Why, you idiot, it was it! If Gordon’s lawyers 
get that paper — and they’ve been after it for a 
year — then the fat’s all in the fire. There’s noth- 
in’ left for me to do but compromise.’ 

“ When Peter T. mentioned the name of Ga- 
119 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


briel Sterzer, me and Jonadab begun to see a light, 
too. ’Course you remember the bust-up of the 
Aluminum Trust — everybody does. The papers 
was full of it. There’d been a row among the two 
leadin’ stockholders, Gabe Sterzer and ‘ Major ’ 
Gordon. Them two double-back-action million- 
aires practically owned the trust, and the state 
’twas in, and the politics of that state, and all the 
politicians. Each of ’em run three or four banks 
of their own, and a couple of newspapers, and 
other things, till you couldn’t rest. Then they had 
the row, and Gabe had took his playthings and 
gone home, as you might say. Among the play- 
things was a majority of the stock, and the Major 
had sued for it. The suit, with pictures of the 
leadin’ characters and the lawyers and all, had 
been spread-eagled in the papers everywheres. No 
wonder ‘ Robinson’s ’ face was familiar. 

“ But it seemed that Sterzer had held the 
trump card in the shape of the original agreement 
betw^een him and Gordon. And he hung on to it 
like the Old Scratch to a fiddler. Gordon and his 
crowd had done everything, short of murder, to 
get it; hired folks to steal it, and so on, because, 
once they did get it, Gabe hadn’t a leg to stand 
on — he’d have to divide equal, which wa’n’t his 
desires, by a good sight. The Sterzer lawyers had 
wanted him to leave it in their charge, but no — 
he knew tooi much for that. The pig-headed old 
fool had carted it with him wherever he went, and 
120 


A BABY AND A ROBBERY 


him and his daughter had come to the Old 
Home House because he figgered nobody would 
think of their bein’ in such an out-of-the-way place 
as that. But they had thought of it. Anyhow, 
the paper was gone. 

“ ‘ But Mr. Robinzer — Sterson, I mean — ’ cut 
in Cap’n Jonadab, ‘ you could have ’em took up for 
stealin’, couldn’t you ? They wouldn’t dare ’ 

“‘’Course they’d dare! S’pose they don’t 
know I wouldn’t have that agreement get in the 
papers? Dare! They’d dare anything. If they 
get away with it, by hook or crook, all I can do 
is haul in my horns and compromise. If they’ve 
got that paper, the suit never comes to trial.’ 

“ ‘ Well, they ain’t got it yet,’ says Peter, de- 
cided. ‘ Whoever stole the thing is right here in 
this boardin’-house, and it’s up to us to see that 
they stay here. Barzilla, you take care of the mail. 
No letters must go out to-night. Jonadab, you 
set up and watch all hands, help and all. Nobody 
must leave this place, if we have to tie ’em. And 
I’ll keep a gen’ral overseein’ of the whole thing, 
till we get a detective. And — if you’ll stand the 
waybill, Mr. Sterzef — we’ll have the best Pink- 
erton in Boston down here in three hours by spe- 
cial train. By the way, are you sure the thing is 
lifted? Where was it? ’ 

“ Old Gabe kind of colored up, and give in 
that ’twas under his pillow. He always kept it 
there after the beds was made. 


9 


121 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ Humph ! ’ grunts Brown. ‘ Why didn’t you 
hang it on the door-knob? Under the pillow ! If 
/ was a sneak thief, the first place I’d look would 
be under the pillow; after that I’d tackle the jew- 
elry box and the safe.’ 

“ There was consider’ble more talk. Seems the 
Sterzers had left Henry on guard, same as they 
always done, when they went to supper. They 
could trust him and Suzette absolute, they said. 
But Henry had gone down the hall after a drink 
of water, and when he had got back everything 
apparently was all right. ’Twa’n’t till Gabe him- 
self come up that he found the paper gone. I 
judged he’d made it interestin’ for Henry; the 
poor critter looked that way. 

“ All hands agreed to keep mum for the pres- 
ent and to watch. Peter hustled to the office and 
called up the Pinkertons over the long distance.” 

Mr. Wingate paused. Captain Sol was im- 
patient. 

“ Go on,” he said. “ Don’t stop now, I’m get- 
tin’ anxious.” 

Barzilla rose to his feet. “ Here’s your 
McKay man back again,” he said. “ Let’s go up 
to your house and have breakfast. We can talk 
while we’re eatin’. I’m empty as a poorhouse 
boarder’s pocketbook.” 


CHAPTER VI 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 

B reakfast at Capt. Sol Berry’s was a 
bountiful meal. The depot master em- 
ployed a middle-aged woman who came in 
each day, cooked his meals and did the housework, 
returning to her own home at night. After Mr. 
Wingate had mowed a clean swath through ham 
and eggs, cornbread and coffee, and had reached 
the cooky and doughnut stage, he condescended to 
speak further concerning the stolen paper. 

“ Well,” he said, “ Brown give me and Jona- 
dab a serious talkin’ to when he got us alone. 

‘‘ ‘ Now, fellers,’ he says, ‘ we know what we’ve 
got to do. Nothin’ll be too good for this shebang 
and us if we get that agreement back. Fust place, 
the thing was done a few minutes after the supper- 
bell rung. That is, unless that ’Enry is in on the 
deal, which ain’t unlikely, considerin’ the price he 
could get from the Gordon gang. Was anybody 
late at the tables? ’ 

Why, yes; there were quite a few late. Two 
of the * gunners,’ who’d been on a forlorn- 
123 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


hope duck hunt; and a minister and his wife, 
out walkin’ for their health; and Parker and 
two fellers from the football team, who’d been 
practicin’. 

“ ‘ Any of the waiters or the chambermaids? * 
asked Peter. 

“ Pd been expectin’ he’d ask that, and I hated 
to answer. 

“ ‘ One of the waiters was a little late,’ says I. 
‘ Willie wa’n’t on hand immediate. Said he went 
to wash his hands.’ 

“ Now the help gen’rally washed in the fo’cas- 
tle — the servants’ quarters, I mean — but there was 
a wash room on the floor where the Sterzer-Rob- 
insons roomed. Peter looked at Jonadab, and 
the two of ’em at me. And I had to own up that 
Willie had come downstairs from that wash room 
a few minutes after the bell rung. 

“ ‘ Hum ! ’ says Peter T. ‘ Hum ! ’ he says. 
‘ Look here, Barzilla, didn’t you tell me you knew 
that feller’s real name, and that he had been study- 
ing law? ’ 

‘ No,’ says I, emphatic. ‘ I said ’twas law he 
was tryin’ to get away from. His tastes run large 
to literation and poetry.’ 

“ ‘ Hum ! ’ says Peter again. ‘ All papers are 
more or less literary — even trust agreements. 
Hum!’ 

“ ‘ All the same,’ says I, ‘ Pll bet my Sunday 
beaver that he never took it.’ 

124 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


“ They didn’t answer, but looked solemn. 
Then the three of us went on watch. 

“ Nobody made a move to go out that evenin’. 
I kept whatever mail was handed in, but there 
was nothin’ that looked like any agreements, and 
nothin’ addressed to Gordon or his lawyers. At 
twelve or so, the detective come. Peter drove up 
to the depot to meet the special. He told the 
^ whole yarn on the way down. 

“ The detective was a nice enough chap, and 
we agreed he should be ‘ Mr. Snow,’ of New 
York, gunnin’ for health and ducks. He said the 
watch must be kept up all night, and In the morn- 
in’ he’d make his fust move. So said, so done. 

“ And afore breakfast that next mornin’ we 
called everybody Into the dinin’ room, boarders, 
help, stable hands, every last one. And Peter 
made a little speech. He said that a very valuable 
paper had been taken out of Mr. Robinson’s 
room, and ’twas plain that It must be on the prem- 
ises somewhere. ’Course, nobody was suspicloned, 
but, speakin’ for himself, he’d feel better if his 
clothes and his room was searched through. 
How’d the rest feel about It? 

‘‘ Well, they felt diff’rent ways, but Parker 
spoke up like a brick, and said he wouldn’t rest 
easy till his belongin’s was .pawed over, and then 
the rest fell In line. We went through everybody 
and every room on the place. Found nothin’, of 
course. Snow — the detective — said he didn’t ex-^ 
125 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


pect to. But I tell you there was some talkin’ go- 
in’ on, just the same. The minister, he hinted that 
he had some doubts about them dissipated gun- 
ners; and the gunners cal’lated they never see a 
parson yet wouldn’t bear w'atchin’. As for me, 
I felt like a pickpocket, and, judgin’ from Jona- 
dab’s face, he felt the same. 

“ The detective man swooped around quiet, 
l)obbin’ up in unexpected places, like a porpoise, 
and askin’ questions once in a while. He asked 
about most everybody, but about Willie, especial. I 
judged Peter T. had dropped a hint to him and to 
Gabe. Anyhow, the old critter give out that he 
wouldn’t trust a poet with the silver handles on his 
grandmarm’s coffin. As for Grace, she acted 
dreadful nervous and worried. Once I caught her 
swabbin’ her eyes, as if she’d been cryin’ ; but Pd 
never seen her and Willie together but the one 
time I told you of. 

‘‘ Four days and nights crawled by. No symp- 
toms yet. The Pinkertons was watchin’ the Gor- 
don lawyers’ office in New York, and they report- 
ed that nothin’ like that agreement had reached 
there. And our own man — Snow — said he’d go 
bail it hadn’t been smuggled off the premises sense 
he struck port. So ’twas safe so far; but where 
was it, and who had it? 

“ The final football game, the one with Wapa- 
tomac, was to be played over on their grounds on 
the afternoon of the fifth day. Parker, cap’n of 
126 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


the eleven, give out that, considerin’ everything, 
he didn’t know but we’d better call it off. Old 
Robinson — Sterzer, of course — wouldn’t hear 
of it. 

‘“Not much,’ says he. ‘I wouldn’t chance your 
losin’ that game for forty papers. You sail in and 
lick ’em I ’ or words to that effect. 

“ So the eleven was to cruise across the bay in 
the Greased Lightning Peter’s little motor launch, 
and the rooters was to go by train later on. ’Twas 
Parker’s idee, goin’ in the launch. ’Twould be 
more quiet, less strain on the nerves of his men, 
and they could talk over plays and signals on the 
v’yage. 

“ So at nine o’clock in the forenoon they was 
ready, the whole team — three waiters, two fisher- 
men, one carpenter from up to Wellmouth Center, 
a stable hand, and Parker and three reg’lar board- 
ers. These last three was friends of Parker’s that 
he’d had come down some time afore. He knew 
they could play football, he said, and they’d come 
to oblige him. 

“ The eleven gathered on the front porch, all 
in togs and sweaters, principally provided and paid 
for by Sterzer. Cap’n Parker had the ball under 
his arm, and the launch was waitin’ ready at the 
landin’. All the boarders — except Grace, who 
was upstairs in her room — and most of the 
help was standin’ round to say good luck and 
good-by. 


127 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Snow, the detective, was there, and I whis- 
pered in his ear. 

“ ‘ Say,’ I says, ‘ do you realize that for the 
fust time since the robbery here’s a lot of folks 
leavin’ the house? How do you know but 
what ’ 

“ He winked and nodded brisk. ‘ I’ll attend to 
that,’ he says. 

“ But he didn’t have to. Parker spoke fust, 
and took the wind out of his sails. 

“ ‘ Gentlemen,’ says he, ‘ I don’t know how the 
rest of you feel, but, as for me, I don’t start with- 
out clear skirts. I suggest that Mr. Brown and 
Mr. Wingate here search each one of us, thor- 
oughly. Who knows,’ says he, laughin’, ‘ but 
what I’ve got that precious stolen paper tucked 
inside my sweater? Ha! ha! Come on, fellers! 
I’ll be first.’ 

“ He tossed the ball into a chair and marched 
into the office, the rest of the players after him, 
takin’ it as a big joke. And there the searchin’ 
was done, and done thorough, ’cause Peter asked 
Mr. Snow to help, and he knew how. One thing 
was sure; Pa Gabe’s agreement wa’n’t hid about 
the persons of that football team. Everybody 
laughed — that is, all but the old man and the de- 
tective. Seemed to me that Snow was kind of dis- 
appointed, and I couldn’t see why. ’Twa’n’t 
likely any of them was thieves. 

Cap’n Parker picked up his football and 
128 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


started off for the launch. He’d got about ha’f- 
way to the shore when Willie — who’d been stand- 
in’ with the rest of the help, lookin’ on — stepped 
for’ard pretty brisk and whispered in the ear 
of the Pinkerton man. The detective jumped, 
sort of, and looked surprised and mighty inter- 
ested. 

“ ‘ By George ! ’ says he. * I never thought of 
that.’ Then he run to the edge of the piazza and 
called. 

“ ‘ Mr. Parker ! ’ he sings out. ‘ Oh, Mr. 
Parker! ’ 

“ Parker was at the top of the little rise that 
slopes away down to the landin’. The rest of the 
eleven was scattered from the shore to the hotel 
steps. He turns, without stoppin’, and answers. 

“‘What is it?’ he sings out, kind of impa- 
tient. 

“ ‘There’s just one thing we forgot to look at,’ 
shouts Snow. ‘ Merely a piatter of form, but just 
bring that — Hey I Stop him I Stop him 1 ’ 

“ For Parker, instead of cornin’ back, had 
turned and was leggin’ it for the launch as fast 
as he could, and that was some. 

“ ‘ Stop 1 ’ roars the Pinkerton man, jumpin’ 
down the steps. ‘ Stop, or ’ 

“ ‘Hold him, Jim!’ screeched Parker, over his 
shoulder. One of the biggest men on the eleven 
— one of the three ‘ friends ’ who’d been so oblig- 
in’ as to come down on purpose to play football — 
129 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


made a dive, caught the detective around the 
waist, and threw him flat. 

“ ‘ Go on, Ed I ’ he shouts. ‘ I’ve got him, all 
right.’ 

“ Ed — meanin’ Parker — was goin* on, and 
goin’ fast. All hands seemed to be frozen 
stiff, me and Jonadab and Peter T. included. 
As for me, I couldn’t make head nor tail of the 
doin’ s; things was cornin’ too quick for my under- 
standin’. 

“ But there was one on that piazza who wa’n’t 
froze. Fur from it! Willie, the poet waiter, 
made a jump, swung his long legs over the porch- 
rail, hit the ground, and took after that Parker 
man like a cat after a field mouse. 

“ Run ! I never see such runnin’ ! He fairly- 
flashed across that lawn and over the rise. Parker 
was almost to the landin’; two more jumps and 
he’d been aboard the launch. If he’d once got 
aboard, a turn of the switch and that electric craft 
would have had him out of danger in a shake. 
But them two jumps was two too many. Willie 
riz off the ground like a flyin’ machine, turned his 
feet up and his head down, and lapped his arms 
around Parker’s knees. Down the pair of ’em 
went ‘ Ker-wallop ! ’ and the football flew out of 
Parker’s arms. 

“ In an eyewink that poet was up, grabs the 
ball, and comes tearin’ back toward us. 

‘‘ ‘ Stop him ! ’ shrieks Parker from astern. 

130 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


“ ‘Head him off ! Tackle him ! ’ hellers the bi^ 
chap who was hangin’ onto the detective. 

“ They tell me that discipline and obeyin’ or- 
ders is as much in football as ’tis aboard ship. 
If that’s so, every one of the Old Home House 
eleven was onto their jobs. There was five men 
between Willie and the hotel, and they all bore 
down on him like bats on a June bug. 

“ ‘ Get him ! ’ howls Parker, racin’ to help. 

“ ‘ Down him ! ’ chimes in big Jim, his knee in 
poor Snow’s back. 

“ ‘ Run, Bearse ! Run ! ’ whoops the Pinkerton 
man, liftin’ his mouth out of the sand. 

“ He run — don’t you worry about that ! Like- 
wise he dodged. One chap swooped at him, and 
he ducked under his arms. Another made a dive^ 
and he jumped over him. The third one he 
pushed one side with his hand. ‘ Pushed I ’ 
did I say? ‘Knocked’ would be better, for the 
feller — the carpenter ’twas — ^went over and 
over like a barrel rollin’ down hill. But there 
was two more left, and one of ’em was bound to 
have him. 

“ Then a window upstairs banged open. 

“ ‘Oh, Mr. Bearse!’ screamed a voice — Grace 
Sterzer’s voice. ‘ Don’t let them get you 1 ’ 

“ We all heard her, in spite of the shoutin’ and 
racket. Willie heard her, too. The two fellers, 
one at each side, was almost on him, when he 
stopped, looked up, jumped back, and, as cool as 

131 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

a rain barrel in January, he dropped that ball and 
kicked it. 

“ I can see that picture now, like a tableau at a 
church sociable. The fellers that was runnin’, the 
others on the ground, and that literary pie passer 
with his foot swung up to his chin. 

“ And the ball ! It sailed up and up in a long 
curve, began to drop, passed over the piazza roof, 
and out of sight. 

“ ‘ Lock your door, Miss Sterzer,’ sung out 
Fred Bearse — ‘ Willie ’ for short. ‘ Lock your 
door and keep that ball. I think your father’s 
paper is inside it.’ 

“ As sure as my name is Barzilla Wingate, he 
had kicked that football straight through the open 
window into old Gabe’s room.” 

The depot master whooped and slapped his 
knee. Mr. Wingate grinned delightedly and con- 
tinued : 

‘‘ There ! ” he went on, “ the cat’s out of the 
bag, and there ain’t much more to tell. Every- 
body made a bolt for the room, old Gabe and 
Peter T. in the lead. Grace let her dad in, and 
the ball was ripped open in a hurry. Sure enough ! 
Inside, between the leather and the rubber, was 
the missin’ agreement. Among the jubilations 
and praise services nobody thought of much else 
until Snow, the Pinkerton man, come upstairs, 
his clothes tore and his eyes and nose full of 
sand. 


132 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


“‘Humph!’ says he. ‘You’ve got it, hey? 
Good! Well, you haven’t got friend Parker. 
Look!’ 

“ Such of us as could looked out of the win- 
dow. There was the launch, with Parker and his 
three ‘ friends ’ in it, headin’ two-forty for blue 
water. 

“ ‘ Let ’em go,’ says old Gabe, contented. ‘ 1 
wouldn’t arrest ’em if I could. This is no police- 
station job.’ 

“ It come out afterwards that Parker was a 
young chap just from law school, who had gone 
to work for the firm of shysters who was attendin’ 
to the Gordon interests. They had tracked Ster- 
zer to the Old Home House, and had put their 
new hand on the job of gettin’ that agreement. 
Fust he’d tried to shine up to Grace, but the shine 
— her part of it — had wore off. Then he decided 
to steal it; and he done it, just how nobody knows. 
Snow, the detective, says he cal’lates Henry, the 
servant, is wiser’n most folks thinks, fur’s that’s 
concerned. 

“ Snow had found out about Parker inside of 
two days. Soon’s he got the report as to who he 
was, he was morally sartin that he was the thief. 
He’d looked up Willie’s record, too, and that was 
clear. In fact, Willie helped him consider’ble. 
’Twas him that recognized Parker, havin’ seen 
him play on a law-school team. Also ’twas Willie 
who thought of the paper bein’ in the football. 

133 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Land of love ! What a hero they made of 
that waiter I 

“‘By the livin’ Moses!’ bubbles old Gabe, 
shakin’ both the boy’s hands. ‘ That was the fin- 
est run and tackle and the finest kick I ever saw 
anywhere. I’ve seen every big game for ten years, 
and I never saw anything half so good.’ 

“ The Pinkerton man laughed. ‘ There’s only 
one chap on earth who can kick like that. Here 
he is,’ layin’ his hand on ‘ Willie’s ’ shoulder. 
‘ Bearse, the All-American half-back last year.’ 

“ Gabe’s mouth fell open. ‘ Not “ Bung ” 
Bearse, of Yarvardl’ he sings out. ‘Why! 
Why!* ^ 

“‘Of course, father!’ purrs his daughter, 
smilin’ and happy. ‘ I knew him at once. He and 
I were — er — slightly acquainted when I was at 
Highcliffe.’ 

“‘But — ^but “Bung” Bearse!’ gasps the old 
gent. ‘ Why, you rascal ! I saw you kick the goal 
that beat Haleton. Tour reputation is world- 
wide.’ 

“ Willie — Fred Bearse, that is — shook his 
head, sad and regretful. 

“ ‘ Thank you, Mr. Sterzer,’ says he, in his 
gentle tenor. ‘ I have no desire to be famous in 
athletics. My aspirations now are entirely liter- 
ary.’ 

“ Well, he’s got his literary job at last, bein’ 
engaged as sportin’ editor on one of Gabe’s pa- 
134 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


pers. His dad, old Sol Bearse, seems to be pretty 
well satisfied, partic’lar as another engagement 
between the Bearse family and the Sterzers has 
just been given out.” 

Barzilla helped himself to another dough- 
nut. His host leaned back in his chair and laughed 
uproariously. 

“Well, by the great and mighty!” he ex-' 
claimed, “ that Willie chap certainly did fool you, 
didn’t he. You can’t always tell about these col- 
lege critters. Sometimes they break out unex- 
pected, like chickenpox in the ‘ Old Men’s Home.’ 
Ha! ha! Say, do you know Nate Scudder?” 

“ Know him ? Course I know him ! The 
meanest man on the Cape, and livin’ right in my 
own town, too! Well, if I didn’t know him I 
might trust him, and that would be the beginnin’ 
of the end — for me.” 

“ It sartin would. But what made me think 
of him was what he told me about his nephew, who 
was a college chap, consider’ble like your ‘ Willie,’ 

I jedge. Nate and this nephew, Augustus Tolli- 
ver, was mixed up in that flyin’-machine business, 
you remember.” 

“ I know they wr.s. Mixed up with that Pro- 
fessor Dixland the papers are makin’ such a fuss 
over. Wellmouth’s been crazy over it all, but it 
happened a year ago and nobody that I know of 
has got the straight inside facts about it yet. Nate 
won’t talk at all. Whenever you ask him he busts 

135 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


out swearin’ and walks off. His wife’s got such a 
temper that nobody dared ask her, except the min- 
ister. He tried it, and ain’t been the same man 
since.” 

“ Well,” the depot master smilingly scratched 
his chin, “ I cal’late I’ve got those inside facts.” 

“ You have? ” 

“Yes. Nate gave ’em to me, under protest. 
You see, I know Nate pretty well. I know some 
things about him that . . . but never mind that 
part. I asked him and, at last, he told me. I’ll 
have to tell you in his words, ’cause half the fun 
was the way he told it and the way he looked at 
the whole business. So you can imagine I’m Nate, 
and ” 

“ ’Twill be a big strain on my imagination to 
b’lieve you’re Nate Scudder, Sol Berry.” 

“ Thanks. However, you’ll have to do it for a 
spell. Well, Nate said that it really begun when the 
Professor and Olivia landed at the Wellmouth 
depot with the freight car full of junk. Of course, 
the actual beginnin’ was further back than that, 
when that Harmon man come on from Philadelphy 
and hunted him up, makin’ proclamation that a 
friend of his, a Mr. Van Brunt of New York, had 
said that Scudder had a nice quiet island to let 
and maybe he could hire it. 

“ Course Nate had an island — that little sun- 
dried sandbank a mile or so off shore, abreast his 
house, which we used to call ‘ Horsefoot Bar.’ 

136 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


That crazy Van Brunt and his chum, Hartley, who 
lived there along with Sol Pratt a year or so ago, 
re-christened it ‘ Ozone Island,’ you remember. 
Nate was willin’ to let it. He’d let Tophet, if he 
owned it, and a fool come along who wanted to 
hire it and could pay for the rent and heat. 

“ So Nate and this Harmon feller rowed over 
to the Bar — to Ozone Island, I mean — and the 
desolation and loneliness of it seemed to suit him 
to perfection. So did the old house and big barn 
and all the tumbledown buildin’s stuck there in the 
beach-grass and sand. Afore they’d left they 
made a dicker. He wa’n’t the principal in it. He 
was the private secretary and fust mate of Mr. 
Professor Ansel Hobart Dixland, the scientist — 
perhaps Scudder’d heard of him ? 

“ Perhaps he had, but if so, Nate forgot it, 
though he didn’t tell him that. Harmon ordered 
a fifteen-foot-high board fence built all around the 
house and barn, and made Nate swear not to tell 
a soul who was cornin’ nor anything. Dixland 
might want the island two months, he said, or he 
might want it two years. Nate didn’t care. He 
was in for good pickin’s, and begun to pick 
by slicin’ a liberal commission off that fence- 
buildin’ job. There was a whole passel of let- 
ters back and forth between Nate and Harmon, 
and finally Nate got word to meet the victims at 
the depot. 

“ There was the professor himself, an old 

10 137 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


dried-up relic with whiskers and a temper; and 
there was Miss Olivia Dixland, his niece and 
housekeeper, a slim, plain lookin’ girl, who wore 
eyeglasses and a straight up and down dress. And 
there was a freight car full of crates and boxes and 
land knows what all. But nary sign was there of 
a private secretary and assistant. The professor 
told Nate that Mr. Harmon’s health had suddenly 
broke down and he’d had to be sent South. 

“ ‘ It’s a calamity,’ says he; ‘a real calamity! 
Harmon has been with me in my work from the 
beginnin’; and now, just as it is approachin’ com- 
pletion, he is taken away. They say he may die. 
It is very annoyin’.’ 

“‘Humph!’ says Nate. ‘Well, maybe it 
annoys him some, too; you can’t tell. What you 
goin’ to do for a secretary ? ’ 

“ ‘ I understand,’ says the professor, ‘ that 
there is a person of consider’ble scientific attain- 
ment residin’ with you, Mr. Scudder, at present. 
Harmon met him while he was here ; they were in 
the same class at college. Harmon recommended 
him highly. Olivia,’ he says to the niece, ‘ what 
was the name of the young man whom Harmon 
recommended? ’ 

“ ‘ Tolliver, Uncle Ansel,’ answers the girl, 
lookin’ kind of disdainful at Nate. Somehow he 
had the notion that she didn’t take to him fust 
rate. 

“ ‘ Hey? ’ sings out Nate. ‘ Tolliver? Why, 

138 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


that’s Augustus! Augustus! Well, I’ll be 
switched! ’ 

“ Augustus Tolliver was Nate’s nephew from 
up Boston way. Him and Nate was livin’ to- 
gether at that time. Huldy Ann, Mrs. Scudder, 
was out West, in Omaha, takin’ care of a cousin 
of hers who was a chronic invalid and, what’s 
more to the purpose, owned a lot of stock in cop- 
per mines. 

“ Augustus was a freckle-faced, spindle- 
shanked little critter, with spectacles and a soft, po- 
lite way of speakin’ that made you want to build 
a fire under him to see if he could swear like a 
Christian. He had a big head with consider’ble 
hair on the top of it and nothin’ underneath but 
what he called ‘ science ’ and ‘ sociology.’ His 
science wa’n’t nothin’ but tommy-rot to Nate, and 
the ‘ sociology ’ was some kind of drivel about 
everybody bein’ equal to everybody else, or better. 

‘ Seemed to think ’twas wrong to get a good price 
for a thing when you found a feller soft enough to 
pay it. Did you ever hear the beat of that in your 
life? ’ says Nate. 

“ However, Augustus had soaked so much 
science and sociology into that weak noddle of his 
that they kind of made him drunk, as you might 
say, and the doctor had sent him down to board 
with the Scudders and sleep it off. ‘ Nervous pros- 
tration ’ was the way he had his symptoms labeled, 
and the nerve part was all right, for if a hen flew 

139 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


at him he’d holler and run. Scart! you never see 
such a scart cat In your born days. Scart of a boat, 
scart of being seasick, scart of a gun, scart of every- 
thing! Most special he was scart of Uncle Nate. 
The said uncle kept him that way so’s he wouldn’t 
dast to kick at the grub him and Huldy Ann give 
him, I guess. 

“ ‘ Augustus Tolliver,’ says old Dixland, nod- 
din’. * Yes, that is the name. Has he had a sound 
scientific trainin’ ? ’ 

“ ‘ Scientific trainin’ ! ’ says Nate. ‘ Scientific 
trainin’ ? Why, you bet he’s had it I That’s the 
only kind of trainin’ he has had. He’ll be just the 
feller for you, Mr. Dixland.’ 

“ So that was settled, all but notifyin’ Augus- 
tus. But Scudder sighted another speculation in 
the ofiin’, and hove alongside of it. 

“ ‘ Mr. Harmon, when he was here,’ says he, 

‘ he mentioned you needin’ a nice, dependable man 
to live on the Island and be sort of general roust- 
about. My wife bein’ away just now, and all, it 
struck me that I might as well be that man. 
Maybe my terms’ll seem a little high, at fust men- 
tion, but ’ 

“ ‘ Very good,’ says the professor, ‘ very good. 
I’m sure you’ll be satisfactory. Now please see to 
the unloading of that car. And be careful, very 
careful.’ 

“ Nate broke the news to Augustus that after- 
noon. He had his nose stuck in a book, as usual, 
140 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


and never heard, so Nate yelled at him like a mate 
on a tramp steamer, just to keep in trainin’. 

‘“Who? Who? Who? What? What?’ 
squeals Augustus, jumpin’ out of the chair as if 
there was pins in it. ' What is it ? Who did it ? 
Oh, my poor nerves ! ’ 

“ ‘ Drat your poor nerves ! ’ Nate says. ‘ I’ve 
got a good promisin’ job for you. Listen to this.’ 

“ Then he told about the professor’s wantin’ 
Gus to be assistant and help do what the old man 
called ‘ experiments.’ 

“ ‘ Dixland? ’ says Gus, ‘Ansel Hobart Dix- 
land, the great scientist 1 And I’m to be his assist- 
ant ? Assistant to the man who discovered dixium 
and invented ’ 

“‘Oh, belay there!’ snorts Nate, impatient. 
‘ Tell me this — he’s awful rich, ain’t he ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, I believe — yes, Harmon said he was. 
But to think of my bein’ ’ 

“ ‘ Now, nephew,’ Nate cut in, ‘ let me talk 
to you a minute. Me and your Aunt Huldy Ann 
have been mighty kind to you sence you’ve been 
here, and here’s your chance to do us a good turn. 
You stick close to science and the professor and 
let me attend to the finances. If this family ain’t 
well off pretty soon it won’t be your Uncle Nate’s 
fault. Only don’t you put your oar in where 
’tain’t needed.’ 

“ Lord love you, Gus didn’t care about 
finances. He was so full of joy at bein’ made as- 
141 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


sistant to the great Ansel Whiskers Dixland that 
he forgot everything else, nerves and all. 

“ So in another day the four of ’em was 
landed on Ozone Island and so was the freight-car 
load of crates and boxes. Grub and necessaries 
was to be provided by Scudder — for salary as 
stated and commission understood. 

“ It took Nate less than a week to find 
out what old Dixland was up to. When he 
learned it, he set down in the sand and fairly 
snorted disgust. The old idiot was cal’latin’ to fly. 
Seems that for years he’d been experimentin’ with 
what he called ‘ aeroplanes,’ and now he’d reached 
the stage where he b’lieved he could flap his wings 
and soar. ‘ Thinks I,’ says Nate, ‘ your life 
work’s cut out for you, Nate Scudder. You’ll 
spend the rest of your days as gen’ral provider for 
the Ozone private asylum.’ Well, Scudder wa’n’t 
complainin’ none at the outlook. He couldn’t 
make a good livin’ no easier. 

“ The aeroplane was in sections in them boxes 
and crates. Nate and Augustus and the pro- 
fessor got out the sections and fitted ’em together. 
The buildin’s on Ozone was all joined together — 
first the house, then the ell, then the wash-rooms 
and big sheds, and, finally, the barn. There was 
doors connectin’, and you could go from house to 
barn, both downstairs and up, without steppin’ out- 
side once. 

“ ’Twas in the barn that they built what 
142 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


Whiskers called the ‘ flyin’ stage.’ ’Twas a long 
chute arrangement on trestles, and the idea was 
that the aeroplane was to get her start by slidin’ 
down the chute, out through the big doors and off 
by the atmosphere route to glory. I say that was 
the idea. In practice she worked different. 

“ Twice the professor made proclamations 
that everything was ready, and twice they started 
that flyin’ machine goin’. The fust time Dixland 
was at the helm, and him and the aeroplane 
dropped headfust into the sandbank just outside 
the barn. The machine was underneath, and the 
pieces of it acted as a fender, so all the professor 
fractured was his temper. But it took ten days 
to get the contraption ready for the next fizzle. 
Then poor, shaky, scart Augustus was pilot, and 
he went so deep into the bank that Nate says he 
wondered whether ’twas wuth while doin’ anything 
but orderin’ the gravestone. But they dug him 
out at last, whole, but frightened blue, and his 
nerves was worse than ever after that. 

“ Then old Dixland announces that he has dis- 
covered somethin’ wrong in the principle of the 
thing, and they had to wait while he ordered some 
new fittin’s from Boston. 

“ Meanwhile there was other complications 
settin’ in. Scudder was kept busy providin’ grub 
and such like and helpin’ the niece, Olivia, with the 
housework. Likewise he had his hands full keep- 
in’ the folks alongshore from findin’ out what was 

143 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


goin’ on. All this flyin’ foolishness had to be a 
dead secret. 

“ But, busy as he was, he found time to notice 
the thick acquaintance that was developin’ between 
Augustus and Olivia. Them two was what the 
minister calls ‘ kindred sperrits.’ Seems she was 
sufferin’ from science same as he was and, more’n 
that, she was loaded to the gunwale with ‘ social 
reform.’ To hear the pair of ’em go on about 
helpin’ the poor and ‘ settlement work ’ and such 
was enough, accordin’ to Nate, to make you leave 
the table. But there ! He couldn’t complain. 
Olivia was her uncle’s only heir, and Nate could 
see a rainbow of promise ahead for the Scudder 
family. 

‘‘ The niece was a nice, quiet girl. The only 
thing Nate had against her, outside of the sociol- 
ogy craziness and her not seemin’ to take a shine 
to him, was her confounded pets. Nate said he 
never had no use for pets — lazy critters, eatin’ up 
the victuals and costin’ money — but Olivia wa?s 
dead gone on ’em. She adopted an old reprobate 
of a tom-cat, which she labeled ‘ Galileo,’ after an 
Eyetalian who invented spyglasses or somethin’ 
similar, and a great big ugly dog that answered 
to the hail of ‘ Phillips Brooks’ ; she named him 
that because she said the original Phillips was a 
distinguished parson and a great philanthropist. 

“That dog was a healthy philanthropist. 
When Nate kicked him the first time, he chased him 
144 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


the whole length of the barn. After that they had 
to keep him chained up. He was just pinin’ for a 
chance to swaller Scudder whole, and he showed it. 

“ Well, as time went on, Olivia and Augustus 
got chummier and chummier. Nate give ’em all 
the chance possible to be together, and as for old 
Professor Whiskers, all he thought of, anyway, was 
his blessed flyin’ machine. So things was shapin’ 
themselves well, ’cordin’ to Scudder’s notion. 

“ One afternoon Nate come, unexpected, to the 
top of a sand hill at t’other end of the island, and 
there, below, set Olivia and Augustus. He had a 
clove hitch ’round her waist, and they was lookin’ 
into each other’s spectacles as if they was windows 
in the pearly gates. Thinks Nate: ‘They’ve 
signed articles,’ and he tiptoed away, feelin’ that 
life wa’n’t altogether an empty dream. 

“ They was lively hours, them that followed. 
To begin with, when Nate got back to the barn he 
found the professor layin’ on the floor, under the 
flyin’ stage, groanin’ soulful but dismal. He’d 
slipped off one of the braces of the trestles and 
sprained both wrists and bruised himself till he 
v/a’n’t much more than one big lump. He hadn’t 
bruised his tongue none to speak of, though, and 
his language wa’n’t sprained so that you’d notice 
it. What broke him up most of all was that he’d 
got his aeroplane ready to ‘ fly ’ again, and now 
he was knocked out so’s he couldn’t be aboard when 
she went off the ways. 


145 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ * It is the irony of fate,’ says he. 

“ ‘ I got it off the blacksmith over to Well- 
mouth Centre,’ Nate told him; ‘but he might 
have got it from Fate, or whoever you mean. 
’Twas slippery iron, I know that, and I warned 
you against steppin’ on it yesterday.’ 

“ The professor more’n hinted that Nate was 
a dunderhead idiot, and then he commenced to hol- 
ler for Tolliver; he wanted to see Tolliver right 
off. Scudder thought he’d ought to see a doctor, 
but he wouldn’t, so Nate plastered him up best he 
could, got him into the big chair in the front room, 
and went huntin’ Augustus. Him and Olivia was 
still camped in the sand bank. Gus’s right arm had 
got tired by this time, I cal’late, but he had a new 
hitch with his left. Likewise they was still starin’ 
into each other’s specs. 

“ ‘ Excuse me for interruptin’ the mesmerism,’ 
says Nate, ‘ but the professor wants to see you.’ 

“ They jumped and broke away. But it took 
more’n that to bring ’em down out of the clouds. 
They’d been flyin’ a good sight higher than the 
old aeroplane had yet. 

“ ‘ Uncle Nathan,’ says Augustus, gettin’ up 
and shakin’ hands, ‘ I have the most wonderful 
news for you. It’s hardly believable. You’ll 
never guess it.’ 

“ ‘ Give me three guesses and I’ll win on the 
fust,’ says Nate. ‘ You two are engaged.’ 

“ They looked at him as if he’d done somethin’ 
146 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


wonderful. ‘ But, Uncle,’ says Gus, shakin’ hands 
again, ‘ just think I she’s actually consented to 
marry me.’ 

“ ‘ Well, that’s gen’rally understood to be a 
part of engagin’, ain’t it? ’ says Nate. ‘ I’m glad 
to hear it. Miss Dixland, I congratulate you. 
You’ve got a fine, promisin’ young man.’ 

“ That, to Nate’s notion, was about the biggest 
lie he ever told, but Olivia swallered it for gospel. 
She seemed to thaw toward Scudder a little mite, 
but ’twa’n’t at a permanent melt, by no means. 

“ ‘ Thank you, Mr. Scudder,’ says she, still 
pretty frosty. ‘ I am full aware of Mr. Tolliver’s 
merits. I’m glad to learn that you recognize 
them. He has told some things concernin’ his 
stay at your home which ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, yes,’ says Nate, kind of hurried. 
‘ Well, I’m sorry to dump bad news into a puddle 
of happiness like this, but your Uncle Ansel, Miss 
Dixland, has been tryin’ to fly without his machine, 
and he’s sorry for it.’ 

“ Then he told what had happened to the pro- 
fessor, and Olivia started on the run for the house. 
Augustus was goin’, too, but Nate held him back. 

“ ‘ Wait a minute, Gus,’ says he. ‘ Walk 
along with me; I want to talk with you. Now, as 
an older man, your nighest relation, and one that’s 
come to love you like a son — ^yes, sir, like a son — 
I think it’s my duty just now to say a word of ad- 
vice. You’re goin’ to marry a nice girl that’s 

147 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


cornin’ in for a lot of money one of these days. 
The professor, he’s kind of old, his roof leaks con- 
sider’ble, and this trouble is likely to hurry the 
end along. 

“ ‘ Now, then,’ Nate goes on, ‘ Augustus, my 
boy, what are you and that simple, childlike girl 
goin’ to do with all that money? How are you 
goin’ to take care of it? You and ’Livia — ^you 
mustn’t mind my callin’ her that ’cause she’s goin’ 
to be one of the family so spon — ^you’ll want to be 
fussin’ with science and such, and you won’t have 
no time to attend to the finances. You’ll need a 
good, safe person to be your financial manager. 
Well, you know me and you know your Aunt 
Huldy Ann. We know all about financin’ ; we^ve 
had experience. You just let us handle the bonds 
and coupons and them trifles. We’ll invest ’em 
for you. We’ll be yours and ’Livia’s financial 
managers. As for our wages, maybe they’ll seem 
a little high, but that’s easy arranged. And ’ 

“ Gus interrupted then. ‘ Oh, that’s all 
settled,’ he says. ‘ Olivia and I have planned all 
that. When we’re married we shall devote our 
lives to social work — to settlement work. All the 
money we ever get we shall use to help the poor. 
We don’t want any of it. We shall live among the 
poor, live just as frugally as they do. Our money we 
shall give — every cent of it — to charity and— ’ 

“ ‘ Lord sakes! ’ yells Nate, ‘ donU talk that 

way! Don’t! Be you crazy, too? Why ’ 

148 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


“ But Gus went on, talkin’ a steady streak 
about livin’ in a little tenement in what he called 
the ‘ slums ’ and chuckin’ the money to this tramp 
and that, till Nate’s head was whirlin’. ’Twa’n’t 
no joke. He meant it and so did she, and they was 
just the pair of loons to do it, too. 

“ Afore Nate had a chance to think up any- 
thing sensible to say, Olivia comes hollerin’ for Gus 
to hurry. Off he went, and Nate followed along, 
holdin’ his head and staggerin’ like a voter cornin’ 
home from a political candidate’s picnic. All he 
could think of was: ‘ This the end of all my 
plannin’ ! What — whafll Huldy Ann say to 
thisf ’ 

“ Nate found the professor bolstered up in his 
chair, with the other two standin’ alongside. He 
was layin’ down the law about that blessed aero- 
plane. 

“ ' No \ no \ no! 1 tell you ! ’ he roars, ‘ I’ll see 
no doctor. My invention is ready at last, and, if 
I’m goin’ to die, I’ll die successful. Tolliver, 
you’ve been a faithful worker with me, and yours 
shall be the privilege of makin’ the first flight. 
Wheel me to the window, Olivia, and let me see 
my triumph.’ 

“ But Olivia didn’t move. Instead, she looked 
at Augustus and he at her. ‘ Wheel me to the 
window ! ’ yells Dixland. ‘ Tolliver, what are 
you waitin’ for? The doors are open, the aero- 
plane is ready. Go this instant and fly.’ 

149 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Augustus was a bird all right, ’cordin’ to 
Nate’s opinion, but he didn’t seem anxious to 
spread his wings. He was white, and them nerves 
of his was all in a twitter. If ever there was a 
scart critter, ’twas him then. 

“ ‘ Go out and fly,’ says Nate to him, pretty 
average ugly. ‘ Don’t you hear the boss’s order ? 
Here, professor. I’ll push you to the window.’ 

“ ‘ Thank you, Scudder,’ says Dixland. And 
then turnin’ to Gus : ‘ Well, sir, may I ask why 
you wait? ’ 

“ ’Twas Olivia that answered. ‘ Uncle Ansel,’ 
says she, ‘ I must tell you somethin’. I should 
have preferred tellin’ you privately,’ she puts in, 
glarin’ at Nate, ‘ but it seems I can’t. Mr. Tol- 
liver and I are engaged to be married.’ 

“ Old Whiskers didn’t seem to care a conti- 
nental. All he had in his addled head was that 
flyin’ contraption. 

“ ‘ All right, all right,’ he snaps, fretty, ‘ I’m 
satisfied. He appears to be a decent young man 
enough. But now I want him to start my aero- 
plane.’ 

“ ‘No, Uncle Ansel,’ goes on Olivia, ‘ I can- 
not permit him to risk his life in that way. His 
nerves are not strong and neither is his heart. 
Besides, the aeroplane has failed twice. Luck- 
ily no one was killed in the other trials, but 
the chances are that the third time may prove 
fatal.’ 


150 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


“ * Fatal, you imbecile! ’ shrieks the professor. 
* It’s perfected, I tell you I I ’ 

“ ‘ It makes no difference. No, uncle, 
Augustus and I have made up our minds. His 
life and health are too precious ; he must be spared 
for the grand work that we are to do together. 
No, Uncle Ansel, he shall not fly.’ 

“ Did you ever see a cat in a lit? That was 
the professor just then, so Nate said. He tried 
to wave his sprained wrists and couldn’t; tried to 
stamp his foot and found it too lame. But his 
eyeglasses flashed sparks and his tongue spit fire. 

“ * Are you goin’ to start that machine? ’ he 
screams at the blue-white, shaky Augustus. 

“ ‘ No, Professor Dixland,’ stammers Gus. 
‘ No, sir. I’m sorry, but ’ 

“ * Why don’t you ask Mr. Scudder to make 
the experiment, uncle ? ’ suggests that confounded 
niece, smilin’ the spitefullest smile. 

“ ‘ Scudder,’ says the professor, * I’ll give you 
five thousand dollars cash to start in that aeroplane 
this moment.’ 

“ For a jiffy Nate was staggered. Five thou- 
sand dollars cash — whew! But then he thought 
of how deep Gus had been shoved into that sand- 
bank. And there was a new and more powerful 
motor aboard the thing now. Five thousand dol- 
lars ain’t much good to a telescoped corpse. He 
fetched a long breath. 

“ ‘ Well, now, Mr. Dixland,’ he says, ‘ I’d like 

151 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


to, fust rate, but you see I don’t know nothin’ 
about mechanics.’ 

“ * Professor — ’ begins Augustus. ’Twas the 
final straw. Old Whiskers jumped out of the 
chair, lameness and all. 

“ ‘ Out of this house, you ingrate ! ’ he bellers. 
‘ Out this instant ! I discharge you. Go ! go ! ’ 

“ He was actually frothin’ at the mouth. I 
cal’late Olivia thought he was goin’ to die, for she 
run to him. 

“ ‘ You’d better go, I think,’ says she to her 
shakin’ beau. ‘ Go, dear, now. I must stay with 
him for the present, but we will see each other 
soon. Go now, and trust me.’ 

“ ‘ I disown you, you ungrateful girl,’ foams 
her uncle. ‘ Scudder, I order you to put that — 
that creature off this island.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, sir,’ says Nate, polite; ‘ in about two 
shakes of a heifer’s tail.’ 

“ He started for Augustus, and Gus started 
for the door. I guess Olivia might have inter- 
fered, but just then the professor keels over in a 
kind of faint and she had to tend to him. Gus 
darts out of the door with Nate after him. Scud- 
der reached the beach just as his nephew was 
shovin’ off in the boat, bound for the mainland. 

‘ Consarn your empty head! ’ Nate yelled 
after him. ‘ See what you get by not mindin’ me, 
don’t you? Pm runnin’ things on this island after 
this. Pm boss here; understand? When you’re 
152 


AVIATION AND AVARICE 


ready to sign a paper deedin’ over ha’f that money 
your wife’s goin’ to get to me and Huldy Ann, 
maybe I’ll let you come back. And perhaps then 
I’ll square things for you with Dixland. But if 
you dare to set foot on these premises until then 
I’ll murder you; I’ll drown you; I’ll cut you up for 
bait; I’ll feed you to the dog.’ 

“ He sculled off, his oars rattlin’ ‘ Hark from 
the tomb ’ in the rowlocks. He b’lieved Nate 
meant it all. Oh, Scudder had him trained all 
right.’? 


CHAPTER VII 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 

T rust Nate for that,” interrupted Win- 
gate. “ He’s just as much a born bully 
as he is a cheat and a skinflint.” 

“ Yup,” went on Captain Sol. “ Well, when 
Nate got back to the house the professor was alone 
in the chair, lookin’ sick and weak. Olivia was 
up in her room havin’ a cryin’ fit. Nate got the 
old man to bed, made him some clam soup and hot 
tea, and fetched and carried for him like he was a 
baby. The professor’s talk was mainly about the 
ungrateful desertion, as he called it, of his as- 
sistant. 

“ ‘ Keep him away from this island,’ he says. 
‘ If he comes, I shall commit murder; I know it.’ 

“ Scudder promised that Augustus shouldn’t 
come back. The professor wanted guard kept 
night and day. Nate said he didn’t know’s he 
could afford so much time, and Dixland doubled 
his wiges on the spot. So Nate agreed to stand 
double^ watches, made him comfort’ble for the 
night, and left him. 


154 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 


“ Olivia didn’t come downstairs again. She 
didn’t seem to want any supper, but Nate did and 
had it, a good one. Galileo, the cat, came yowlin’ 
around, and Nate kicked him under the sofy. 
Phillips Brooks was howlin’ starvation in the 
woodshed, and Scudder let him howl. If he 
starved to death Nate wouldn’t put no flowers on 
his grave. Take it altogether, he was havin’ a 
fairly good time. 

“ And when, later on, he set alone up in his 
room over the kitchen, he begun to have a better 
one. Prospects looked good. Maybe old Dix- 
land would disown his niece. If he did, Nate 
figgered he was as healthy a candidate for adoption 
as anybody. And Augustus would have to come 
to terms or stay single. That is, unless him and 
Olivia got married on nothin’ a week, paid yearly. 
Nate guessed Huldy Ann would think he’d man- 
aged pretty well. 

“ He set there for a long while, thinkin’, and 
then he says he cal’lates he must have dozed off. 
At any rate, next thing he knew he was settin’ up 
straight in his chair, listenin’. It seemed to him 
that he’d heard a sound in the kitchen underneath. 

“ He looked out of the window, and right 
away he noticed somethin’. ’Twas a beautiful, 
clear moonlight night, and the high board fence 
around the buildin’s showed black against the 
white sand. And in that white strip was a ten-foot 
white gape. Nate had shut that gate afore he 

155 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


went upstairs. Who’d opened it?. Then he 
heard the noise in the kitchen again. Somebody 
was talkin’ down there. 

“ Nate got up and tiptoed acrost the room. 
He was in his stockin’ feet, so he didn’t make a 
sound. He reached into the corner and took out 
his old duck gun. It was loaded, both barrels. 
Nate cocked the gun and crept down the back 
stairs. 

“ There was a lamp burnin’ low on the kitchen 
table, and there, in a couple of chairs hauled as 
close together as they could be, set that Olivia 
niece and Augustus. They was in a clove hitch 
again and whisperin’ soft and slushy. 

“ My ! but Scudder was b’ilin’ ! He give one 
jump and landed in the middle of that kitchen 
floor. . 

“‘You — ^you — ^you!’ he yelled, wavin’ the 
shotgun. ‘You’re back here, are you? You 
know what I told you I’d do to you? Well, 
now, I’ll do it’ 

“ The pair of ’em had jumped about as far as 
Nate had, only the opposite way. Augustus was 
a paralyzed statue, but Olivia had her senses with 
her. 

“ ‘ Run, Augustus! ’ she screamed. ‘ He’ll 
shoot you. Run 1 ’ 

“ And then, with a screech like a siren whistle, 
Augustus commenced to run. Nate was between 
him and the outside door, so he bolted headfirst 
156 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 

into the dining room. And after him went Nate 
Scudder, so crazy mad he didn’t know what he 
was doin’. 

“ ’Twas pitch dark in the dining room, but 
through it they went rattlety bang ! dishes smashin’, 
chairs upsettin’ and ‘ hurrah, boys ! ’ to pay gen’- 
rally. Then through the best parlor and into the 
front hall. 

“ I cal’late Nate would have had him at the 
foot of the front stairs if it hadn’t been for Galileo. 
That cat had been asleep on the sofy, and the noise 
and hullabaloo had stirred him up till he was as 
crazy as the rest of ’em. He run right under 
Nate’s feet and down went Nate sprawlin’ and 
both barrels of the shotgun bust loose like a couple 
of cannon. 

‘‘ Galileo took for tall timber, whoopin’ an- 
thems. Up them front stairs went Augustus, 
screechin’ shrill, like a woman; he was sure Nate 
meant to murder him now. And after him his 
uncle went on all fours, swearin’ tremendous. 

“ Then ’twas through one bedroom after an- 
other, and each one more crowded with noisy, 
smashable things than that previous. Nate said 
he could remember the professor roarin’ ‘ Fire I ’ 
and ‘ Help ! ’ as the two of ’em bumped into his 
bed, but they didn’t stop — they was too busy. 
The whole length of the house upstairs they trav- 
eled, then through the ell, then the woodshed loft, 
and finally out into the upper story of the barn. 

157 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

And there Nate knew he had him. The ladder 
was down. 

“ ‘ Now I ’ says Nate. ‘ Now, you long-legged 
villain, if I don’t give you what’s cornin’ to you, 
then — Oh, there ain’t no use in your climbin’ out 
there; you can’t get down.’ 

“ The big barn doors was open, and, in the 
moonlight, Nate could see Gus scramblin’ up and 
around on the flyin’ stage where the professor’s 
aeroplane was perched, lookin’ like some kind of 
magnified June bug. 

“ ‘ Come back, you fool ! ’ Scudder yelled at 
him. ‘ Come back and be butchered. You 
might as well; it’s too high for you to drop. You 
won’t? Then I’ll come after you.’ 

“ Nate says he never shall forget Augustus’s 
face in the blue light when he see his uncle climbin’ 
out on that stage after him. He was simply des- 
perate — that’s it, desperate. And the next thing 
he did was jump into the saddle of the machine 
and pull the startin’ lever. 

“ There was the buzz of the electric motor, a 
slippery, slidin’ sound, one awful hair-raisin’ 
whoop from Augustus, and then — ‘ F-s-s-s-t I ’ — 
down the flyin’ stage whizzed that aeroplane and 
out through the doors. 

“Nate set down on the trestles and waited for 
the sound of the smash. I guess he actually felt 
conscience stricken. Of course, he’d only done his 
duty, and yet 


158 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 


“ But no smash came. Instead, there was a 
long scream from the kitchen — Olivia’s voice that 
was. And then another yell that for pure joy beat 
anything ever heard. 

“ ‘ It flies ! ’ screamed Professor Ansel Hobart 
Whiskers Dixland, from his bedroom window. 
‘At last! At last! It flies!* 

“ It took Nate some few minutes to paw his 
way back through the shed loft and the ell over 
the things him and Gus knocked down on the fust 
lap, until he got to his room where the trouble had 
started. Then he went down to the kitchen and 
outdoor. 

“ Olivia, a heavenly sort of look on her face, 
was standin’ in the moonlight, with her hands 
clasped, lookin’ up at the sky. 

“ ‘ It flies ! ’ says she, in a kind of whisper over 
and over again. ‘ Oh ! it flies! * 

“ Alongside of her was old Dixland, wrapped 
in a bedquilt, forgettin’ all about sprains and lame- 
ness; and he likewise was staring at the sky and 
sayin’ over and over: 

“ ‘ It flies! It really flies! * 

“ And Nate looked up, and there, scootin’ 
around in circles, now up high and now down low, 
tippin’ this way and tippin’ that, was that aero- 
plane. And in the stillness you could hear the 
buzz of the motor and the yells of Augustus. 

“ Down flopped Scudder in the sand. ‘ Great 
land of love,’ he says, * it flies! * 

159 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Well, for five minutes or so they watched that 
thing swoop and duck and sail up there overhead. 
And then, slow and easy as a feather in a May 
breeze, down she flutters and lands soft on a hum- 
mock a little w^ays off. And that Augustus — a 
fool for luck — staggers out of it safe and sound, 
and sets down and begins to cry. 

“ The fust thing to reach him was Olivia. She 
grabbed him around the neck, and you never heard 
such goin’s on as them two had. Nate come 
hurryin’ up. 

‘ Here you I ’ he says, pullin’ ’em apart. 
‘ That’s enough of this. And you,’ he adds to 
Gus, ‘ clear right out off this island. I won’t 
make shark bait of you this time, but ’ 

“ And then comes Dixland, hippity-hop over 
the hummocks. ‘ My noble boy ! ’ he sings out, 
failin’ all of a heap onto Augustus’s round shoul- 
ders. ‘ My noble boy ! My hero ! ’ 

“ Nate looked on for a full minute with his 
mouth open. Olivia went away toward the house. 
The professor and Gus was sheddin’ tears like a 
couple of waterin’ pots. 

“ ‘ Come ! come ! ’ says Scudder finally; ‘ get up, 
Mr. Dixland; you’ll catch cold. Now then, you 
Tolliver, toddle right along to your boat. Don’t 
you worry, professor. I’ll fix him so’s he won’t come 
here no more.’ 

“ But the professor turned on him like a 
flash. 

i6o 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 


“ ‘ How dare you interfere? ’ says he. ‘ I for- 
give him everything. He is a hero. Why, man, 
he flew! * 

“ Olivia came up behind and touched Nate on 
the shoulders. ‘ Don’t you think you’d better go, 
Mr. Scudder? ’ she purred. ‘ I’ve unchained Phil- 
lips Brooks.’ 

“ Nate swears he never made better time than 
he done gettin’ to the shore and the boat Augustus 
had come over in. But that philanthropist dog 
only missed the supper he’d been waitin’ for by 
about a foot and a half, even as ’twas. 

“ And that was the end of it, fur’s Nate was 
concerned. Olivia was boss from then on, and 
Scudder wa’n’t allowed to land on his own island. 
And pretty soon they all went away, fiyin’ machine 
and all, and now Gus and Olivia are married.” 

“ Well, by gum ! ” cried Wingate. “ Say, that 
must have broke Nate’s heart completely. All that 
good money goin’ to the poor. Ha ! ha ! ” 

“ Yes,” said Captain Sol, with a broad grin. 
“ Nate told me that every time he realized that 
Gus’s fiyin’ at all was due to his scarin’ him into it, 
it fairly made him sick of life.” 

“ What did Huldy Ann say? I’ll bet the fur 
fiew when she heard of it 1 ” 

“ I guess likely it did. Scudder says her jawin’s 
was the worst of all. Her principal complaint was 
that he didn’t take up with the professor’s five- 
thousand offer and try to fiy. ‘ What if ’twas 

i6i 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


risky?’ she says. ‘ If anything happened to you 
the five thousand would have come to your heirs, 
wouldn’t it? But no! you never think of no one 
but yourself.’ ” 

Mr. Wingate glanced at his watch. “ Good 
land ! ” he cried, “ I didn’t realize ’twas so late. I 
must trot along down and meet Stitt. He and I are 
goin’ to corner the clam market.” 

‘‘ I must be goin’, too,” said the depot master, 
rising and moving toward the door, picking up his 
cap on the way. He threw open the door and ex- 
claimed, ‘‘ Hello I here’s Sim. What you got on 
your mind, Sim?” 

Mr. Phinney looked rather solemn. “ I wanted 
to speak with you a minute, Sol,” he began. 
“ Hello 1 Barzilla, I didn’t know you was here.” 

“ I shan’t be here but one second longer,” re- 
plied Mr. Wingate, as he and Phinney shook 
hands. “ I’m late already. Bailey’ll think I ain’t 
cornin’. Good-by, b^s. See you this afternoon, 
maybe.” 

“ Yes, do,” cried Berry, as his guest hurried 
down to the gate. “ I want to hear about those 
automobiles over your way. You ain’t bought one, 
have you, Barzilla? ” 

Wingate grinned over his shoulder. “ No,” he 
called, “ / ain’t. But other folks you know have. 
It’s the biggest joke on earth. You and Sim’ll want 
to hear it.” 

He waved a big hand and walked briskly up the 
162 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 


Shore Road. The depot master turned to his 
friend. 

“Well, Sim?” he asked. 

“ Well, Sol,” answered the building mover 
gravely, “ IVe just met Mr. Hilton, the minister, 
and he told me somethin’ about Olive Edwards, 
somethin’ I thought you’d want to know. You 
said for me to find out what she was cal’latin’ to do 

when she had to give up her home and ” 

“ I know what I said,” interrupted the depot 
master rather sharply. “ What did Hilton say? ” 
“ Mr. Hilton told me not to tell,” continued 
Phinney, “ and I shan’t tell nobody but you, Sol. 
I know you won’t mention it. The minister says 
that Olive’s hard up as she can be. All she’s got 
in the world is the little furniture and store stuff 
in her house. The store stuff don’t amount to 
nothin’, but the furniture belonged to her pa and 
ma, and she set a heap by it. Likewise, as every- 
body knows, she’s awful proud and self-respectin’. 
Anything like charity would kill her. Now out 
West — in Omaha or somewheres — she’s got a 
cousin who owed her dad money. Old Cap’n Sea- 
bury lent this Omaha man two or three thousand 
dollars and set him up in business. Course, the 
debt’s outlawed, but Olive don’t realize that, or, if 
she did, it wouldn’t count with her. She couldn’t 
understand how law would have any effect on pay- 
in’ money you honestly owe. She’s written to the 
Omaha cousin, tellin’ him what a scrape she’s in 
163 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


and askin’ him to please, if convenient, let her 
have a thousand or so on account. She figgers if 
she gets that, she can go to Bayport or Orham or 
somewheres and open another notion store.” 

Captain Berry lit a cigar. “ Hum ! ” he said, 
after a minute. “ You say she’s written to this 
chap. Has she got an answer yet? ” 

“ No, not any definite one. She heard from 
the man’s wife sayin’ that her husband — the cousin 
— had gone on a fishin’ trip somewheres up in Can- 
ady and wouldn’t be back afore the eighth of next 
month. Soon’s he does come he’ll write her. But 
Mr. Hilton thinks, and so do I — havin’ heard a 
few things about this cousin — that it’s mighty 
doubtful if he sends any money.” 

‘‘ Yes, I shouldn’t wonder. Where’s Olive go- 
in’ to stay while she’s waitin’ to hear? ” 

In her own house. Mr. Hilton went to Wil- 
liams and pleaded with him, and he finally agreed 
to let her stay there until the ‘ Colonial ’ is moved 
onto the lot. Then the Edwardses house’ll be tore 
down and Olive’ll have to go, of course.” 

The depot master puffed thoughtfully at his 
^'igar. 

“ She won’t hear before the tenth, at the earli- 
est,” he said. “ And if Williams begins to move 
his ‘ Colonial ’ at once, he’ll get it to her lot by the 
seventh, sure. Have you given him your figures 
for the job? ” 

** Handed ’em in this very mornin’. One of his 
164 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 


high-and-mighty servants, all brass buttons and 
braid, like a feller playin’ in the band, took my let- 
ter and condescended to say he’d pass it on to Wil- 
liams. I’d liked to have kicked the critter, just to 
see if he could unbend; but I jedged ’twouldn’t be 
good business.” 

“ Probably not. If the ‘ Colonial * gets to 
Olive’s lot afore she hears from the Omaha man, 
what then ? ” 

“ Well, that’s the worst of it. The minister 
don’t know what she’ll do. There’s plenty of 
places where she’d be more’n welcome to visit a 
spell, but she’s too proud to accept. Mr. Hilton’s 
afraid she’ll start for Boston to hunt up a job, or 
somethin’. You know how much chance she stands 
of gettin’ a job that’s wuth anything.” 

Phinney paused, anxiously awaiting his com- 
panion’s reply. When it came it was very unsatis- 
factory. 

“ I’m goln’ to the depot,” said the Captain, . 
brusquely. “ So long, Sim.” 

He slammed the door of the house behind him, 
strode to the gate, flung It open, and marched on. 
Simeon gazed in astonishment, then hurried to 
overtake him. Ranging alongside, he endeavored 
to reopen the conversation, but to no purpose. 
The depot master would not talk. They turned 
Into Cross Street. 

“Weil!” exclaimed Mr. Phinney, panting 
from his unaccustomed hurry, “ what be we, runnin’ 
165 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


a race ? Why ! . . . Oh, how d’ye do, Mr. Wil- 
liams, sir? Want to see me, do you? ” 

The magnate of East Harniss stepped forward. 

“ Er — Phinney,” he said, “ I want a moment 
of your time. Morning, Berry.” 

“ Mornin’, Williams,” observed Captain Sol 
brusquely. “ All right, Sim. Pll wait for you 
farther on.” 

He continued his walk. The building mover 
stood still. Mr. Williams frowned with lofty in- 
dignation. 

“ Phinney,” he said, “ Pve just looked over 
those figures of yours, your bid for moving my new 
house. The price is ridiculous.” 

Simeon attempted a pleasantry. “ Yes,” he an- 
swered, “I thought ’twas ridic’lous myself; but I 
needed the money, so I thought I could afford to be 
funny.” 

The Williams frown deepened. 

“ I didn’t mean ridiculously low,” he snapped; 
“ I meant ridiculously high. Pd rather help out 
you town fellows if I can, but you can’t work me 
for a good thing. Pve written to Colt and Adams, 
of Boston, and accepted their offer. You had your 
chance and didn’t see fit to take it. That’s all. Pm 
sorry.” 

Simeon was angry ; also a trifle skeptical. 

“ Mr. Williams,” he demanded, “ do you mean 
to tell me that them people have agreed to move 
you cheaper’n I can ? ” 


i66 


CAPTAIN SOL DECIDES TO MOVE 


“ Their price — their actual price may be no 
lower ; but considering their up-to-date outfit and — 
er — progressive methods, they’re cheaper. Yes. 
Morning, Phinney.” - 

He turned on his heel and walked off. Mr. 
Phinney, crestfallen and angrier than ever, moved 
on to where the depot master stood waiting for 
him. Captain Sol smiled grimly. 

“You don’t look merry as a Christmas tree, 
Sim,” he observed. “ What did his Majesty have 
to say to you ? ” 

Simeon related the talk with Williams. The 
depot master’s grim smile grew broader. 

“ Sim,” he asked, with quiet sarcasm, “ don’t 
you realize that progressive methods are necessary 
in movin’ a house? ” 

Phinney tried to smile in return, but the attempt 
was a failure. 

“Yes,” went on the Captain. “Well, if you 
can’t take the Grand Panjandrum home, you can 
set on the fence and see him go by. That ought to 
be honor enough, hadn’t it? However, I may need 
some of your ridiculous figgers on a movin’ job of 
my own, pretty soon. Don’t be too comical, will 
you?” 

“ What do you mean by that, Sol Berry? ” 

“ I mean that I may decide to move my own 
house.” 

“ Move your own house? Where to, for mercy 
sakes? ” 


167 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


‘‘To that lot on Main Street that belongs to 
Abner Payne. Abner has wanted to buy my lot 
here on the Shore Road for a long time. He knows 
it’ll make a fine site for some rich bigbug’s summer 
‘ cottage.’ He would have bought the house, too, 
but I think too much of that to sell it. Now Ab- 
ner’s come back with another offer. He’ll swap my 
lot for the Main Street one, pay my movin’ ex- 
penses and a fair ‘ boot ’ besides. He don’t really 
care for my house^ you understand; it’s my land 
he’s after.” 

“ Are you goin’ to take it up?” 

“ I don’t know. The Main Street lot’s a good 
one, and my house’ll look good on it. And Pll 
make money by the deal.” 

“ Yes, but you’ve always swore by that salt- 
water view of yours. Told me yourself you never 
wanted to live anywheres else.” 

Captain Sol took the cigar from his lips, looked 
at it, then threw it violently into the gutter. 

“ What difference does it make where I live? ” 
he snarled. “ Who in blazes cares where I live or 
whether I live at all ? ” 

“ Sol Berry, what on airth ” 

“ Shut up ! Let me alone, Sim ! I ain’t fit 
company for anybody just now. Clear out, there’s 
a good feller.” 

The next moment he was striding down the hill. 
Mr. Phinney drew a long breath, scratched his 
head and shook it solemnly. What did it all mean ? 

i68 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 

T he methods of Messrs. Colt and Adams, 
the Boston firm of building movers, were 
certainly progressive, if promptness in 
getting to work is any criterion. Two days after 
the acceptance of their terms by Mr. Williams, a 
freight car full of apparatus arrived at East Har- 
niss. Then came a foreman and a gang of la- 
borers. Horses were hired, and within a week 
the “ pure Colonial ” was off its foundations and 
on its way to the Edwards lot. The moving was 
no light task. The big house must be brought 
along the Shore Road to the junction with the 
Hill Boulevard, then swung into that aristocratic 
highway and carried up the long slope, around 
the wide curve, to its destination. 

Mr. Phinney, though he hated the whole op- 
eration, those having it in charge, and the mighty 
Williams especially, could not resist stealing down 
to see how his successful rivals were progressing 
with the work he had hoped to do. It caused him 
much chagrin to see that they were getting on so 
very well. One morning, after breakfast, as he 
12 169 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


stood at the comer of the Boulevard and the Shore 
Road, he found himself engaged in a mental cal- 
culation. 

Three days more and they would swing into 
the Boulevard; four or five days after that and 
they would be abreast the Edwards lot. Another 
day and . . . Poor Olive! She would be home- 
less. Where would she go? It was too early for 
a reply from the Omaha cousin, but Simeon, hav- 
ing questioned the minister, had little hope that 
that reply would be favorable. Still it was a 
chance, and if the money should come before the 
‘‘ pure Colonial ” reached the Edwards lot, then 
the widow would at least not be driven penniless 
from her home. She would have to leave that 
home in any event, but she could carry out her 
project of opening another shop in one of the 
neighboring towns. Otherwise . . . Mr. Phinney 
swore aloud. 

“ Humph 1 ” said a voice behind him. “ I 
agree with you, though I don’t know what it’s all 
about. I ain’t heard anything better put for a 
long while.” 

Simeon spun around, as he said afterwards, 
‘‘ like a young one’s pinwheel.” At his elbow 
stood Captain Berry, the depot master, hands in 
pockets, cigar in mouth, the personification of calm- 
ness and imperturbability. He had come out of 
his house, which stood close to the corner, and 
walked over to join his friend. 

170 


OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 


“ Land of love ! ” exclaimed Simeon. “ Why 
don’t you scare a fellow to death, tiptoein’ around? 
I never see such a cat-foot critter ! ” 

Captain Sol smiled. “ Jumpin’ it, ain’t they? ” 
he said, nodding toward the “ Colonial.” “ Be 
there by the tenth, won’t it ? ” 

“Tenth!” Mr. Phinney sniffed disgust. 
“ It’ll be there by the sixth, or I miss my 
guess.” 

“ Yup. Say, Sim, how soon could you land 
that shanty of mine in the road if I give you the 
job to move it? ” 

“ I couldn’t get it up to the Main Street lot 
inside of a fortnight,” replied Sim, after a mo- 
ment’s reflection. “ Fur’s gettin’ it in the road 
goes, I could have it here day after to-morrow if 
I had gang enough.” 

The depot master took the cigar out of his 
mouth and blew a ring of smoke. “ All right,” 
he drawled, “ get gang enough.” 

Phinney jumped. “You mean you’ve decided 
to take up with Payne’s offer and swap your lot 
for his? ” he gasped. “ Why, only two or three 
days ago you said ” 

“ Ya-as. That was two or three days ago, 
and I’ve been watchin’ the ‘ Colonial ’ since. I cal’- 
late the movin’ habit’s catchin’. You have your 
gang here by noon to-day.” 

“ Sol Berry, are you crazy? You ain’t seen 

Abner Payne; he’s out of town ” 

171 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Don’t have to see him. He’s made me an 
offer and I’ll write and accept it.” 

“ But you’ve got to have a selectmen’s permit 
to move ” 

“ Got it. I went up and saw the chairman an 
hour ago. He’s a friend of mine. I nominated 
him town-meetin’ day.” 

“ But,” stammered Phinney, very much upset 
by the suddenness of it all, “ you ain’t got my 
price nor ” 

“ Drat your price I Give it when I ask it. See 
here, Sim, are you goin’ to have my house in the 
middle of the road by day after to-morrer? Or 
was that just talk? ” 

“ ’Twa’n’t talk. I can have it there, but ” 

“ All right,” said Captain Sol coolly, “ then 
have it.” 

Hands in pockets, he strolled away. Simeon 
sat down on a rock by the roadside and whistled. 

However, whistling was a luxurious and time- 
wasting method of expressing amazement, and 
Mr. Phinney could not afford luxuries just then. 
For the rest of that day he was a busy man. As 
Bailey Stitt expressed it, he “ flew round like a 
sand flea in a mitten,” hiring laborers, engaging 
masons, and getting his materials ready. That 
very afternoon the masons began tearing down 
the chimneys of the little Berry house. Before 
the close of the following day it was on the rollers. 
By two of the day after that it was in the middle 
172 


OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 


of the Shore Road, just when its mover had de- 
clared it should be. They were moving it, furni- 
ture and all, and Captain Sol was, as he said, 
going to “ stay right aboard all the voyage.” No 
cooking could be done, of course, but the Captain 
arranged to eat at Mrs. Higgins’s hospitable table 
during the transit. His sudden freak was furnish- 
ing material for gossip throughout the village, 
but he did not care. Gossip concerning his actions 
was the last thing in the world to trouble Captain 
Sol Berry. 

The Williams’s “ Colonial ” was moving to- 
ward the corner at a rapid rate, and the foreman 
of the Boston moving firm walked over to see Mr. 
Phinney. 

“ Say,” he observed to Simeon, who, the per- 
spiration streaming down his face, was resting for 
a moment before recommencing his labor of ar- 
ranging rollers; “say,” observed the foreman, 
“ we’ll be ready to turn into the Boulevard by to- 
morrer night and you’re blockin’ the way.” 

“ That’s all right,” said Simeon, “ we’ll be 
past the Boulevard corner by that time.” 

He thought he was speaking the truth, but 
next morning, before work began. Captain Berry 
appeared. He had had breakfast and strolled 
around to the scene of operations. 

“ Well,” asked Phinney, “ how’d it seem to 
sleep on wheels? ” 

“ Tiptop,” replied the depot master. “ Like 

173 


f 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


it fust rate. S’pose my next berth will be somc- 
wheres up there, won’t it?” 

He was pointing around the corner instead of 
straight ahead. Simeon gaped, his mouth open. 

“ Up there? ” he cried. “ Why, of course 
not. That’s the Boulevard. We’re goin’ along 
the Shore Road.” 

“ That so? I guess not. We’re goin’ by the 
Boulevard. Can go that way, can’t we? ” 

“Can?” repeated Simeon aghast. “Course 
w^e can! But it’s like boxin’ the whole compass 
backward to get ha’f a p’int east of no’th. It’s 
way round Robin Hood’s barn. It’ll take twice 
as long and cost ” 

“ That’s good,” interrupted the Captain. “ I 
like to travel, and I’m willin’ to pay for it. Think 
of the view I’ll get on the way.” 

“ But your permit from the selectmen — ” be- 
gan Phinney. Berry held up his hand. 

“ My permit never said nothin’ about the 
course to take,” he answered, his eye twinkling 
just a little. “ There, Sim, you’re wastin’ time. 
I move by the Hill Boulevard.” 

And into the Boulevard swung the Berry 
house. The Colt and Adams foreman was an 
angry man when he saw the beams laid in that 
direction. He rushed over and asked profane and 
pointed questions. 

“ Thought you said you was goin’ straight 
ahead? ” he demand^ed. 


174 


OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 


“ Thought I was,” replied Simeon, “ but, you 
see. I’m only navigator of this craft, not owner.” 

“Where is the blankety blank?” asked the 
foreman. 

“ If you’re referrin’ to Cap’n Berry, I cal’late 
you’ll find him at the depot,” answered Phinney. 
To the depot went the foreman. Receiving little 
satisfaction there, he hurried to the home of his 
employer, Mr. Williams. The magnate, red-faced 
and angry, returned with him to the station. Cap- 
tain Sol received them blandly. Issy, who heard 
the interview which followed, declared that the 
depot master was so cool that “ an iceberg was a 
bonfire ’longside of him.” Issy’s description of 
this interview, given to a dozen townspeople within 
the next three hours, was as follows : 

“ Mr. Williams,” said the wide-eyed Issy, “ he 
comes postin’ into the waitin’ room, his foreman 
with him. Williams marches over to Cap’n Sol 
and he says, ‘ Berry,’ he says, ‘ are you responsible 
for the way that house of yours is moved ? ’ 

“ Cap’n Sol bowed and smiled. ‘ Yes,’ says 
he, sweet as a fresh scallop. ^ 

“ ‘ You’re movin’ it to Main Street, aren’t 
you? I so understood.’ 

“ ‘ You understood correct. That’s where 
she’s bound.’ 

“ ‘ Then what do you mean by turning out of 
your road and into mine ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh, I don’t own any road. Have you 

175 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


bought the Boulevard? The selectmen ought to 
have told us that. I s’posed it was town thor- 
oughfare.’ 

“ Mr. Williams colored up a little. ‘ I didn’t 
mean my road in that sense,’ he says. ‘ But the 
direct way to Main Street is along the shore, and 
everybody knows it. Now why do you turn from 
that into the Boulevard?’ 

“ Cap’n Sol took a cigar from his pocket. 
‘ Have one ? ’ says he, passin’ it toward Mr. Wil- 
liams. ‘ No? Too soon after breakfast, I s’pose. 
Why do I turn off ? ’ he goes on. ‘ Well, I’ll tell 
you. I’m goin’ to stay right aboard my shack 
while it’s movin’, and it’s so much pleasanter a 
ride up the hill that I thought I’d go that way. 
I always envied them who could afford a house 
on the Boulevard, and now I’ve got the chance to 
have one there — for a spell. I’m sartin I shall 
enjoy it.’ 

“ The foreman growled, disgusted. Mr. Wil- 
liams got redder yet. 

“ ‘ Don’t you understand? ’ he snorts. ‘ You’re 
blockin’ the way of the house Fm movin’. I have 
capable men with adequate apparatus to move it, 
and they would be able to go twice as fast as 
your one-horse country outfit. You’re blockin’ the 
road. Now they must follow you. It’s an out- 
rage ! ’ 

“ Cap’n Sol smiled once more. * Too bad,’ 
says he. ‘ It’s a pity such a nice street ain’t wider. 
176 







K K-.-Mf 



D>.. :^r»£ 


“‘You’ll pay for it,’ he snarls.” 


/ 






OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 


If it was my street in my town — I b’lieve that’s 
what you call East Harniss, ain’t it? — seems to 
me I’d widen it.’ 

“ The boss of ‘ my town ’ ground his heel into 
the sand. ‘ Berry,’ he snaps, ‘ are you goin’ to 
move that house over the Boulevard ahead of 
mine ? ’ 

“ The Cap’n looked him square in the eye. 
* Williams,’ says he, ‘ I am.’ 

“ The millionaire turned short and started 
to go. 

“ ‘ You’ll pay for it,’ he snarls, his temper 
gettin’ free at last. 

‘‘ ‘ I cal’late to,’ purrs the Cap’n. ‘ I gen’- 
rally do pay for what I want, and a fair price, 
at that. I never bought in cheap mortgages and 
held ’em for clubs over poor folks, never in my 
life. Good mornin’.’ 

“ And right to Mr. Williams’s own face, too,” 
concluded Issy. “ What do you think of that? ” 

Here was defiance of authority and dignity, 
a sensation which should have racked East Har- 
niss from end to end. But most of the men in the 
village, the tradespeople particularly, had another 
matter on their minds, namely. Major Cuthbert- 
son Scott Hardee, of “ Silverleaf Hall.” The 
Major and his debts were causing serious worri- 
ment. 

The creditors of the Major met, according to 
agreement, on the Monday evening following 
177 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


their previous gathering at the club. Obed Gott, 
one of the first to arrive, greeted his fellow mem- 
bers with an air of gloomy triumph and a sort of 
condescending pity. 

Higgins, the “ general store ” keeper, acting as 
self-appointed chairman, asked if anyone had any- 
thing to report. For himself, he had seen the 
Major and asked point-blank for payment of his 
bill. The Major had been very polite and was ap- 
parently much concerned that his fellow townsmen 
should have been inconvenienced by any neglect of 
his. He would write to his attorneys at once, so 
he said. 

“ He said a whole lot more, too,” added Hig- 
gins. “ Said he had never been better served than 
by the folks in this town, and that I kept a fine 
store, and so on and so forth. But I haven’t got 
any money yet. Anybody else had any better 
luck?” 

No one had, although several had had sim- 
ilar interviews with the master of “ Silverleaf 
Hall.” 

“ Obed looks as if he knew somethin’,” re- 
marked Weeks. “ What is it, Obed? ” 

Mr. Gott scornfully waved his hand. 

‘‘ You fellers make me laugh,” he said. “ You 
talk and talk, but you don’t do nothin’. I b’lieve 
in doin’, myself. When I went home t’other night, 
thinks I : ‘ There’s one man that might know som.e- 
thin’ ’bout old Hardee, and that’s Godfrey, the 
178 


OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 


hotel man.’ So I wrote to Godfrey up to Boston 
and I got a letter from him. Here ’tis.” 

He read the letter aloud. Mr. Godfrey wrote 
that he knew nothing about Major Hardee fur- 
ther than that he had been able to get nothing 
from him in payment for his board. 

“ So I seized his trunk,” the letter concluded. 
“ There was nothing in it worth mentioning, but 
I took it on principle. The Major told me a lot 
about writing to his attorneys for money, but I 
didn’t pay much attention to that. I’m afraid he’s 
an old fraud, but I can’t help liking him, and if 
I had kept on running my hotel I guess he would 
have got away scot-free.” 

“There!” exclaimed the triumphant Obed, 
with a sneer, “ I guess that settles it, don’t it? 
Maybe you’d be willin’ to turn your bills over to 
Squire Baker now.” 

But they were not willing. Higgins argued, 
and justly, that although the Major was in all 
probability a fraud, not even a lawyer could get 
water out of a stone, and that when a man had 
nothing, suing him was a waste of time and 
cash. 

“ Besides,” he said, “ there’s just a chance that 
he may have attorneys and property somewheres 
else. Let’s write him a letter and every one of us 
sign it, tellin’ him that we’ll call on him Tuesday 
night expectin’ to be paid in full. If we call and 
don’t get any satisfaction, why, we ain’t any worse 
179 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


off, and then we can — well, run him out of town, 
if nothin’ more.” 

So the letter was written and signed by every 
man there. It was a long list of signatures and 
an alarming total of indebtedness. The letter was 
posted that night. 

The days that followed seemed long to Obed. 
He was ill-natured at home and ugly at the shop, 
and Polena declared that he was ‘‘ gettin’ so a 
body couldn’t live with him.” Her own spirits 
were remarkably high, and Obed noticed that, as 
the days went by, she seemed to be unusually ex- 
cited. On Thursday she announced that she was 
going to Orham to visit her niece, one Sarah 
Emma Gaboon, and wouldn’t be back right off. 
He knew better than to object, and so she went. 

That evening each of the signers of the letter 
to Major Hardee received a courteous note say- 
ing that the Major would be pleased to receive the 
gentlemen at the Hall. Nothing was said about 
payment. 

So, after some discussion, the creditors 
marched in procession across the fields and up tq 
“ Silverleaf Hall.” 

“ Hardee’s been to Orham to-day,” whis- 
pered the keeper of the livery stable, as they en- 
tered the yard. “ He drove over this momin’ 
and come back to-night.” 

Drove over!” exclaimed Obed, halting in 
his tracks. “He did? Where’d he get the team? 
i8o 


OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 


ril bet five dollars you was soft enough to let 
him have it, and never said a word. Well, if you 
ain’t — By jiminyl you wait till I get at him! 
I’ll show you that he can’t soft soap me.” 

Augustus met them at the door and ushered 
them into the old-fashioned parlor. The Major, 
calm, cool, and imperturbably polite, was waiting 
to receive them. He made some observation con- 
cerning the weather. 

“ The day’s fine enough,” interrupted Obed, 
pushing to the front, “ but that ain’t what we 
come here to talk about. Are you goin’ to pay us 
what you owe? That’s what we want to know.” 

The ‘‘ gentleman of the old school ” did not 
answer immediately. Instead he turned to the 
solemn servant at his elbow. 

“ Augustus,” he said, “ you may make ready.” 
Then, looking serenely at the irate Mr. Gott, 
whose clenched fist rested under the center table, 
which he had thumped to emphasize his demands, 
the Major asked : 

“ I beg your pardon, my dear sir, but what 
is the total of my indebtedness to you ? ” 

“ Nineteen dollars and twenty-eight cents, and 
I want you to understand that ” 

Major Hardee held up a slim, white hand. 

“ One moment, if you please,” he said. 
“ Now, Augustus.” 

Augustus opened the desk in the corner and 
produced an imposing stack of bank notes. Then. 
i8i 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


he brought forth neat piles of halves, quarters, 
dimes, and pennies, and arranged the whole upon 
the table. Obed’s mouth and those of his com- 
panions gaped in amazement. 

“ Have you your bill with you, Mr. Gott? ” 
inquired the Major. 

Dazedly Mr. Gott produced the required 
document. 

“ Thank you. Augustus, nineteen twenty-eight 
to this gentleman. Kindly receipt the bill, Mr. 
Gott, if you please. A mere formality, of course, 
but it is well to be exact. Thank you, sir. And 
now, Mr. Higgins.” 

One by one the creditors shamefacedly stepped 
forward, received the amount due, receipted the 
bill, and stepped back again. Mr. Peters, the 
photographer, was the last to sign. 

“ Gentlemen,” said the Major, “ I am sorry 
that my carelessness in financial matters should 
have caused you this trouble, but now that you 
are here, a representative gathering of East Har- 
niss’s men of affairs, upon this night of all nights, 
it seems fitting that I should ask for your con- 
gratulations. Augustus.” 

The wooden-faced Augustus retired to the 
next room and reappeared carrying a tray upon 
which were a decanter and glasses. 

“ Gentlemen,” continued the Major, “ I have 
often testified to my admiration and regard for 
your — ^perhaps I may now say our — charming 
182 


OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN 


village. This admiration and regard has extended 
to the fair daughters of the township. It may 
be that some of you have conscientious scruples 
against the use of intoxicants. These scruples I 
respect, but I am sure that none of you will refuse 
to at least taste a glass of wine with me when I 
tell you that I have this day taken one of the 
fairest to love and cherish during life.” 

He stepped to the door of the dining room, 
opened it, and said quietly, “ My dear, will you 
honor us with your presence? ” 

There was a rustle of black silk and there 
came through the doorway the stately form of 
her who had been Mrs. Polena Ginn. 

“ Gentlemen,” said the Major, “ permit me to 
present to you my wife, the new mistress of ‘ Sil- 
verleaf Hall.’ ” 

The faces of the ex-creditors were pictures of 
astonishment. Mr. Gott’s expressive countenance 
turned white, then red, and then settled to a mot- 
tled shade, almost as if he had the measles. Po- 
lena rushed to his side. 

O Obed! ” she exclaimed. “ I know we’d 
ought to have told you, but ’twas only Tuesday 
the Major asked me, and we thought we’d keep it 
a secret so’s to s’prise you. Mr. Langworthy over 

to Orham married us, and ” 

“ My dear,” her husband blandly interrupted, 
“ we will not intrude our private affairs upon the 
patience of these good friends. And now, gentle- 

183 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


men, let me propose a toast: To the health and 
happiness of the mistress of ‘ Silverleaf Hall ’ I 
Brother Obed, I ” 

The outside door closed with a slam ; “ Brother 
Obed ” had fled. 

A little later, when the rest of the former 
creditors of the Major came out into the moon- 
light, they found their companion standing by the 
gate gazing stonily into vacancy. “ Hen ” Lead- 
better, who, with Higgins, brought up the rear of 
the procession, said reflectively: 

“ When he fust fetched out that stack of 
money I couldn’t scarcely b’lieve my eyes. I 
begun to think that we fellers had put our foot 
in it for sartin, and had lost a mighty good cus- 
tomer; but, of course, it’s all plain enough nowP 

“ Yes,” remarked Weeks with a nod; “ I allers 
heard that P’lena kept a mighty good balance in 
the bank.” 

“ It looks to me,” said Higgins slyly, ‘‘ as if 
we owed Obed here a vote of thanks. How ’bout 
that, Obed?” 

And then Major Hardee’s new brother-in-law 
awoke with a jump. 

“Aw, you go to grass I” he snarled, and 
tramped savagely off down the hill. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 
HESE developments, Major Hardee’s 



marriage and Mr. Gott’s discomfiture, 


overshadowed, for the time, local interest 


in the depot master’s house moving. This was, in 
its way, rather fortunate, for those who took the 
trouble to walk down ’to the lower end of the Boule- 
vard were astonished to see how very slowly the 
moving was progressing. 

“Only one horse, Sim?” asked Captain 
Hiram Baker. “ Only one ! Why, it’ll take you 
forever to get through, won’t it? ” 

“ I’m afraid it’ll take quite a spell,” admitted 
Mr. Phinney. 

“ Where’s your other one, tKe white ohe? ” 

“ The white horse,” said Simeon slowly, “ ain’t 
feelin’ just right and I’ve had to lay him off.” 

“ Humph I that’s too bad. How does Sol act 

about it? He’s such a hustler, I should think ” 

“ Sol,” interrupted Sim, “ain’t unreasonable. 
He understands.” 

He chuckled inwardly as he said it. Captain 


13 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Sol did understand. Also Mr. Phinney himself was 
beginning to understand a little. 

The very day on which Williams and his fore- 
man had called on the depot master and been dis- 
missed so unceremoniously, that official paid a short 
visit to his mover. 

“ Sim,” he said, the twinkle still In his eye, 
“ his Majesty, Williams the Conqueror, was In to 
see me just now and acted real peevish. He was 
pretty disrespectful to you, too. Called your out- 
fit ^ one horse.’ That’s a mistake, because you’ve 
got two horses at work right now. It seems a 
shame to make a great man like that He. Hadn’t 
you better lay off one of them horses? ” 

“ Lay one off? ” exclaimed Simeon. “ What 
for? Why, we’ll be slow enough, as ’tis. With 
only one horse we wouldn’t get through for I don’t 
know how long.” 

“That’s so,” murmured the Captain. “I s’pose 
with one horse you’d hardly reach the middle of 
the Boulevard by — well, before the tenth of the 
month. Hey?” 

The tenth of the month! The tenth! Why, 
It was on the tenth that that Omaha cousin of 
Olive Edwards was to — Mr. Phinney began to see 
— to see and to grin, slow but expansive. 

“ Hm-m-m I ” he mused. 

“ Yes,” observed Captain Sol. “ That white 
horse of yours looks sort of ailin’ to me, Sim. I 
think he needs a rest.” 


i86 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 


And, sure enough, next day the white horse 
was pronounced unfit and taken back to the stable. 
The depot master’s dwelling moved, but that is all 
one could say truthfully concerning its progress. 

At the depot the Captain was quieter than usual. 
He joked with his assistant less than had been his 
custom, and for the omission Issy was duly grate- 
ful. Sometimes Captain Sol would sit for minutes 
without speaking. He seemed to be thinking and 
to be pondering some grave problem. When his 
friends, Mr. Wingate, Captain Stitt, Hiram Baker, 
and the rest, dropped in on him he cheered up and 
was as conversational as ever. After they had gone 
he relapsed into his former quiet mood. 

“ He acts sort of blue, to me,” declared Issy, 
speaking from the depths of sensational-novel 
knowledge. “ If he was a younger man I’d say he 
was most likely in love. Ah, hum ! I s’pose bein’ 
in love does get a feller mournful, don’t it? ” 

Issy made this declaration to his mother only. 
He knew better than to mention sentiment to male 
acquaintances. The latter were altogether too like- 
ly to ask embarrassing questions. 

Mr. Wingate and Captain Stitt were still in 
town, although their stay was drawing to a close. 
One afternoon they entered the station together. 
Captain Sol seemed glad to see them. 

“ Set down, fellers,” he ordered. “ I swan I’m 
glad to see you. I ain’t fit company for myself 
these days.” 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Ain’t Betsy Higgins feedin’ you up to the 
mark? ” asked Stitt. “ Or is house movin’ gettin’ 
on your vitals? ” 

“ No,” growled the depot master, “ grub’s all 
right and so’s movin’, I cal’late. I’m glad you 
fellers come in. What’s the news to Orham, Bar- 
zilla? How’s the Old Home House boarders 
standin’ it? Hear from Jonadab regular, do you ? ” 

Mr. Wingate laughed. “ Nothin’ much,” he 
said. “ Jonadab’s too busy to write these days. 
Bein’ a sport interferes with letter writing consid- 
er’ble.” 

“ Sport! ” exclaimed Captain Bailey. “ Land 
of Goshen! Cap’n Jonadab is the last one I’d 
call a sport.” 

“ That’s ’cause you ain’t a good judge of 
human nature, Bailey,” chuckled Barzilla. “ When 
ancient plants like Jonadab Wixon do bloom, 
they’re gay old blossoms, I tell you ! ” 

“ What do you mean? ” asked the depot mas- 
ter. 

“ I mean that Jonadab’s been givin’ me heart 
disease, that’s what; givin’ it to me in a good many 
diff’rent ways, too. We opened the Old Home 
House the middle of April this year, because Peter 
T. Brown thought we might catch some spring 
trade. We did catch a little, though whether it 
paid to open up so early’s a question. But ’twas 
June ’fore Jonadab got his disease so awful bad. 
However, most any time in the last part of May 

i88 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 


the reg’lar programme of the male boarders was 
stirrin’ him up. 

“ Take it of a dull day, for instance. Sky over- 
cast and the wind aidgin’ round to the sou’east, so’s 
you couldn’t tell whether ’twould rain or fair off; 
too cold to go off to the ledge cod fishin’ and too 
hot for billiards or bowlin’ ; a bunch of the younger 
women folks at one end of the piazza playin’ 
bridge; half a dozen men, includin’ me and Cap’n 
Jonadab, smokin’ and tryin’ to keep awake at 
t’other end; amidships a gang of females — all 
* fresh air fiends ’ — and mainly widows or discards 
in the matrimony deal, doin’ faneywork and gos- 
sip. That would be about the usual layout. 

“ Conversation got to you in homeopath doses, 
somethin’ like this: 

“‘Did you say “Spades”? Well! if I’d 
known you were going to make us lose our deal like 
that. I’d never have bridged it — not with this 
hand.’ 

“ ‘ Oh^ Miss Gabble, have you heard what peo- 
ple are sayin* about — ’ The rest of it whispers. 

“ ‘ A — oo — ow! By George, Bill ! this is dead 
enough, isn’t It? Shall we match for the cigars or 
arc you too lazy ? ’ 

“ Then, from away off in the stillness would 
come a drawn-out ‘ Honk I honk I ’Jike a wild goose 
with the asthma, and pretty soon up the road would 
come sailin’ a big red automobile, loaded to the 
guards with goggles and grandeur, and whiz past 
189 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


the hotel in a hurricane of dust and smell. Then 
all hands would set up and look interested, and 
Bill would wink acrost at his chum and drawl : 

“‘That’s the way to get over the country I 
Why, a horse isn’t one — two — three with that! 
Cap’n Wixon, I’m surprised that a sportin’ man 
like you hasn’t bought one of those things long 
afore this.’ 

“For the next twenty minutes there wouldn’t 
be any dullness. Jonadab would take care of that. 
He’d have the floor and be givin’ his opinions of 
autos and them that owned and run ’em. And be- 
tween the drops of his language shower you’d see 
them boarders nudgin’ each other and rockin’ back 
and forth contented and joyful. 

“ It always worked. No matter what time of 
day or night, all you had to say was ‘ auto ’ and 
Cap’n Jonadab would sail up out of his chair like 
one of them hot-air balloons the youngsters nowa- 
days have on Fourth of July. And he wouldn’t 
come down till he was empty of remarks, nuther. 
You never see a man get so red faced and eloquent. 

“ It wa’n’t because he couldn’t afford one him- 
self. I know that’s the usual reason for them kind 
of ascensions, but ’twa’n’t his. No, sir! the sum- 
mer hotel business has put a considerable number 
of dollars in Jonadab’s hands, and the said hands 
are like a patent rat trap, a mighty sight easier to 
get into than out of. He could have bought three 
automobiles if he’d wanted to, but he didn’t want 
190 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 


to. And the reason he didn’t was named Tobias 
Loveland and lived over to Orham.” 

“ I know Tobias,” interrupted Captain Bailey 
Stitt. 

“ Course you do,” continued BarziUa. ‘‘ So 
does Sol, I guess. Well, anyhow, Tobias and Cap’n 
Jonadab never did hitch. When they was boys 
together at school they was always rowin’ and 
fightin’, and when they grew up to be thirty and 
courted the same girl — ten years younger than 
either of ’em, she was — ’twa’n’t much better. Nei- 
ther of ’em got her, as a matter of fact; she mar- 
ried a tin peddler named Bassett over to Hyannis. 
But both cal’lated they would have won if t’other 
hadn’t been in the race, and consequently they loved 
each other with a love that passed understandin’. 
Tobias had got well to do in the cranberry-raisin’ 
line and drove a fast horse. Jonadab, durin’ the 
last prosperous year or two, had bought what he 
thought was some horse, likewise. They met on 
the road one day last spring and trotted alongside 
one another for a mile. At the end of that mile 
Jonadab’s craft’s jib boom was just astern of Tobi- 
as’s rudder. Inside of that week the Cap’n had 
sv/apped his horse for one with a two-thirty record, 
and the next time they met Tobias was left with 
a beautiful, but dusty, view of Jonadab’s back hair. 
So he bought a new horse. And that was the be- 
ginnin’. 

“ It went along that way for twelve months. 

191 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Fust one feller’s nag would come home freighted 
with perspiration and glory, and then t’other’s. 
One week Jonadab would be so bloated with horse 
pride that he couldn’t find room for his vittles, and 
the next he’d be out in the stable growlin’ ’cause It 
cost so much for hay to stuff an old hide rack that 
wa’n’t fit to put In a museum. At last It got so that 
neither one could find a better horse on the Cape, 
and the two they had was practically an even 
match. I begun to have hopes that the foolishness 
was over. And then the tin peddler’s widow drifts 
in to upset the whole calabash. 

“ She made port at Orham fust, this Henrietta 
Bassett did, and the style she slung killed every 
female Goliath In the Orham sewin’ circle dead. 
Seems her husband that was had been an Inventor, 
as a sort of side line to peddlin’ tinware, and all to 
once he Invented somethin’ that worked. He made 
money — nobody knew how much, though all hands 
had a guess — and pretty soon afterwards he made 
a will and Henrietta a widow. She’d been livin’ in 
New York, so she said, and had come back to re- 
visit the scenes of her childhood. She was a mighty 
well-preserved woman — artificial preservatives, I 
cal’late, like some kinds of tomatter ketchup — and 
her cornin’ stirred Orham way down to the burnt 
places on the bottom of the kettle.” 

“ I guess I remember her^ too,” put in Captain 
Bailey. 

“ Say ! ” queried Mr. Wingate snappishly, ‘‘ do 
192 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 


you want to tell about her? If you do, 
why ” 

“ Belay, both of you ! ” ordered the depot mas- 
ter. “ Heave ahead, Barzilla.” 

“ The news of her got over to Wellmouth, and 
me and Jonadab heard of it. He was some subject 
to widows — ^most widower men are, I guess — but 
he didn’t develop no alarmin’ symptoms in this case 
and never even hinted that he’d like to see his old 
girl. Fact is, his newest horse trade had showed 
that it was afraid of automobiles, and he was be- 
ginnin’ to get rabid along that line. Then come 
that afternoon when him and me was out drivin’ 
together, and we — Well, I’ll have to tell you 
about that. 

“We was over on the long stretch of wood 
road between Trumet and Denboro, nice hard mac- 
adam, the mare — her name was Celia, but Jona- 
dab had re-christened her Bay Queen after a boat 
he used to own — skimmin’ along at a smooth, easy 
gait, when, lo and behold you I we rounds a turn 
and there ahead of us is a light, rubber-tired wagon 
with a man and woman on the seat of it. I heard 
Jonadab give a kind of snort. 

“ * What’s the matter? ’ says I. 

“ * Nothin’,’ says he, between his teeth. ‘ Only, 
if I ain’t some mistaken, that’s Tobe Loveland’s 
rig. Wonder if he’s got his spunk with him ? The 
Queen’s feelin’ her oats to-day, and I cal’late I can 
show him a few things.’ 

193 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ Rubbish ! ’ says I, disgusted. ‘ Don’t be 
foolish, Jonadab. I don’t know nothin’ about his 
spunk, but I do know there’s a woman with him. 
’Tain’t likely he’ll want to race you when he’s got a 
passenger aboard.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, I don’t know ! ’ says he. ‘ I’ve got you, 
Barzilla; so ’twill be two and two. Let’s heave 
alongside and see.’ 

“ So he clucked to the Queen, and in a jiffy 
we was astern of t’other rig. Loveland looked 
back over his shoulder. 

“ ‘ Ugh ! ’ he grunts, ’bout as cordial as a plate 
of ice cream. ‘ ’Lo, Wixon, that you ? ’ 

“ ‘ Um-hm,’ begins Jonadab. ‘ How’s that 
crowbait of yours to-day, Tobe? Got any go in 
him ? ’Cause if he has, I ^ 

“ He stopped short. The woman in Love- 
land’s carriage had turned her head and was starin’ 
hard. 

“ ‘ Why I ’ she gasps. ‘ I do believe — Why, 
Jonadab ! ’ 

“ ‘ Hettie! ’ says the Cap’n. 

“ Well, after that ’twas pull up, of course, and 
shake hands and talk. The widow, she done most 
of the talkin’. She was so glad to see him. How 
had he been all these years? She knew him in- 
stantly. He hadn’t changed a mite — that is, not so 
very much. She was plannin’ to come over to the 
Old Home House and stay a spell later on; but 
now she was havin’ such a good time in Orham. 

194 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 


Tobias — Mr. Loveland — was makin’ it so pleasant 
for her. She did enjoy drivin’ so much, and Mr. 
Loveland had the fastest horse in the county — did 
we know that ? 

“ Tobias and Jonadab glowered back and forth 
while all this gush was bein’ turned loose, and hard- 
ly spoke to one another. But when ’twas over and 
we was ready to start again, the Cap’n says, 
says he: 

“ ‘ ril be mighty glad to see you over to the 
hotel, when you’re ready to come, Hettie. I can 
take you ridin’, too. Fur’s horse goes. I’ve got a 
pretty good one myself.’ 

“ ‘ Oh I ’ squeals the widow. ‘ Really? Is that 
him? It’s awful pretty, and he looks fast.’ 

“ ‘ She is,’ says Jonadab. ‘ There’s nothin’ 
round here can beat her.’ 

“ ‘ Humph I ’ says Loveland. ‘ Git dap ! ’ 

“ ‘ Git dap ! ’ says Jonadab, agreein’ with him 
for once. 

“ Tobias started, and we started. Tobias 
makes his horse go a little faster, and Jonadab 
speeded up some likewise. I see how ’twas goin’ 
to be, and therefore I wa’n’t surprised to death 
when the next ten minutes found us sizzlin’ down 
that road, neck and neck with Loveland, dust flyin’, 
hoofs poundin’, and the two drivers leanin’ way 
for’ard over the dash, reins gripped and teeth sot. 
For a little ways ’tw^as an even thing, and then we 
commenced to pull ahead a little. 

195 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ Loveland/ yells Jonadab, out of the port 
corner of his mouth, ‘ if I ain’t showin’ you my tail- 
board by the time we pass the fust house in Den- 
boro, I’ll eat my Sunday hat’ 

“ I cal’late he would ’a’ beat, too. We was 
drawin’ ahead all the time and had a three-quarter 
length lead when we swung clear of the woods and 
sighted Denboro village, quarter of a mile away. 
And up the road comes flyin’ a big auto, goin’ to 
beat the cars. 

“ Let’s forget the next few minutes ; they wa’n’t 
pleasant ones for me. Soon’s the Bay Queen sot 
eyes on that auto, she stopped trottin’ and com- 
menced to hop ; from hoppin’ she changed to waltz- 
in’ and high jumpin’. When the smoke had cleared, 
the auto was out of sight and we was in the bushes 
alongside the road, with the Queen just gettin’ 
ready to climb a tree. As for Tobias and Henri- 
etta, they was roundin’ the turn by the fust house 
in Denboro, wavin’ by-bys to us over the back of 
the seat. 

“We went home then; and every foot of the 
way Cap’n Jonadab called an automobile a new 
kind of name, and none complimentary. The 
boarders, they got wdnd of what had happened and 
begun to rag him, and the more they ragged, the 
madder he got and the more down on autos. 

“ And, to put a head on the whole business, 
I’m blessed if Tobias Loveland didn’t get in with 
an automobile agent who was stoppin’ in Orham 
196 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 


and buy a fifteen-hundred-dollar machine off him. 
And the very next time Jonadab was out with the 
Queen on the Denboro road, Tobias and the 
widow whizzed past him in that car so fast he 
might as well have been hove to. And, by way of 
rubbin’ it In, they come along back pretty soon and 
rolled alongside of him easy, while Henrietta 
gushed about Mr. Loveland’s beautiful car and 
how nice It was to be able to go just as swift as you 
wanted to. Jonadab couldn’t answer back, nuther, 
bein’ too busy keepin’ the Queen from turnin’ 
herself Into a flyin’ machine. 

“ ’Twas then that he got himself swore in spe- 
cial constable to arrest auto drivers for overspeed- 
in’; and for days he wandered round layin’ for a 
chance to haul up Tobias and get him fined. He’d 
have had plenty of game If he’d been satisfied with 
strangers, but he didn’t want them anyhow, and, 
besides, most of ’em was on their way to spend 
money at the Old Home House. ’Twould have 
been poor business to let any of that cash go for 
fines, and he realized it. 

“ ’Twas in early June, only a few weeks ago, 
that the widow come to our hotel. I never 
thought she meant it when she said she was cornin’, 
and so I didn’t expect her. Fact Is, I was expect- 
in’ to hear that she and Tobe Loveland was mar- 
ried or engaged. But there was a slip up some- 
wheres, for all to once the depot wagon brings 
her to the Old Home House, she hires a room, 
197 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


and settles down to stay till the season closed, which 
would be in about a fortn’t. 

“ From the very fust she played her cards for 
Jonadab. He meant to be middlin’ average frosty 
to her, I imagine — her bein’ so thick with Tobias 
prejudiced him, I presume likely. But land sakes ! 
she thawed him out like hot toddy thaws out some 
folks’ tongues. She never took no notice of his 
coldness, but smiled and gushed and flattered, and 
looked her prettiest — which was more’n average, 
considerin’ her age — and by the end of the third 
day he was hangin’ round her like a cat round a 
cook. 

“ It commenced to look serious to me. Jon- 
adab was a pretty old fish to be caught with soft 
, soap and a set of false crimps ; but you can’t never 
tell. When them old kind do bite, they gen’rally 
swallow hook and sinker, and he sartinly did act 
hungry. I wished more’n once that Peter T. 
Brown, our business manager, was aboard to help 
me with advice, but Peter is off tourin’ the Yosem- 
ite with his wife and her relations, so whatever 
pilotin’ there was I had to do. And every day 
fetched Jonadab’s bows nigher the matrimonial 
rocks. 

“ I’d about made up my mind to sound the fog 
horn by askin’ him straight out what he was cal’- 
latin’ to do ; but somethin’ I heard one evenin’, as 
I set alone in the hotel office, made me think I’d 
better wait a spell. 


198 


THE WIDOW BASSETT 


“ The office window was open and the curtain 
drawed down tight I was settin’ Inside, smokin’ 
and goln’ over the situation, when footsteps 
sounded on the piazza and a couple come to 
anchor on the settee right by that window. 
Cap’n Jonadab and Henrietta I I sensed that 
immediate. 

“ She was laughin’ and actin’ kind of queer, 
and he was talkin’ mighty earnest. 

“ ‘ Oh, no, Cap’n I Oh, no ! ’ she giggles. 
‘ You mustn’t be so serious on such a beautiful 
night as this. Let’s talk about the moon.’ 

“ ‘ Drat the moon ! ’ says Jonadab. ‘ Hettle, 

I ’ 

“ ‘ Oh, just see how beautiful the water looks ! 
All shiny and ’ 

“ ‘ Drat the water, too ! Hettle, what’s the 
reason you don’t want to talk serious with me ? If 
that Tobe Loveland ’ 

“ ‘ Really, I don’t see why you bring Mr. 
Loveland’s name Into the conversation. He Is a 
perfect gentleman, generous and kind; and as for 
the way In which he runs that lovely car of 
his ’ 

“ The Cap’n Interrupted her. He ripped out 
somethin’ emphatic. 

“ ‘ Generous I ’ he snarls. ‘ ’Bout as generous 
as a hog In the feed trough, he is. And as for 
runnin’ that pesky auto, If I’d demean myself to 
own one of them things, I’ll bet my other suit I 
199 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


could run It better’n he does. If I couldn’t, I’d 
tie myself to the anchor and jump overboard.’ 

“ The way she answered showed pretty plain 
that she didn’t believe him. ‘ Really? ’ she says. 
‘ Do you think so? Good night, Jonadab.’ 

“ I could hear her walkin’ off acrost the piazza. 
He went after her. ‘ Hettle,’ he says, ‘ you an- 
swer me one thing. Are you engaged to Tobe 
Loveland? * 

“ She laughed again, sort of teasin’ and slow. 
‘ Really,’ says she, ‘ you are — Why, no. I’m 
not.’ 

“ That was all, but It set me to thinkin’ hard. 
She wa’n’t engaged to Loveland; she said so, her- 
self. And yet. If she wanted Jonadab, she was 
actin’ mighty funny. I ain’t had no experience, 
but it seemed to me that then was the time to bag 
him and she’d put him off on purpose. She was 
ages too ancient to be a flirt for the fun of it. 
What was her game? ” 


CHAPTER X 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

M r. WINGATE stopped and roared a 
greeting to Captain Hiram Baker, 
who was passing the open door of 
the waiting room. 

“ Hello, there, Hime 1 ” he shouted. “ Come 
up in here ! What, are you too proud to speak to 
common folks? ” 

Captain Hiram entered. “ Hello I ” he said. 
“ You look like a busy gang, for sure. What you 
doin’ — seatin’ chairs? ” 

“ Just now we’re automobilin’,” observed Cap- 
tain Sol. “ Set down, Hiram.” 

“Automobilin’?” repeated the new arrival, 
evidently puzzled. 

“ Sartin. Barzilla’s takin’ us out. Go on, 
Barzilla.” 

Mr. Wingate smiled broadly. “ Well,” he 
began, “ we have just about reached the part 
where I went autoin’. The widow and me and 
Jonadab.” 

“ Jonadab I ” shouted Stitt. “ I thought you 


said' 


14 


201 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


** I know what I said. But we went aut© 
ridin’ just the same. 

“ ’Twas Henry G. Bradbury that took us out, 
him and his brah-new big tourin’ car. You see, 
he landed to board with us the next day after Hen- 
rietta come — this Henry G. did — and he was so 
quiet and easy spoken and run his car so slow that 
even a pizen auto hater like Jonadab couldn’t take 
much offense at him. He wa’n’t very well, he 
said, subject to some kind of heart attacks, and had 
come to the Old Home for rest. 

“ Him and the Cap’n had great arguments 
about the sins of automobilin’. Jonadab was sot 
on the idee that nine folks out of ten hadn’t ma- 
chine sense enough to run a car. Bradbury, he de- 
clared that that was a fact with the majority of 
autos, but not with his. ‘ Why, a child could run 
it,’ says he. ‘ Look here, Cap’n: To start it you 
just do this. To stop it you do so and so. To 
make her go slow you haul back on this lever. To 
make her go faster you shove down this one. And 
as for steerin’ — ^well, a man that’s handled the 
wheels of as many catboats as you have would 
simply have a picnic. I’m in entire sympathy with 
your feelin’s against speeders and such — I’d be a 
constable if I was in your shoes — ^but this is a 
gentleman’s car and runs like one.’ 

All Jonadab said was ‘ Bosh I ’ and 
‘ Humph ! ’ but he couldn’t help actin’ interested, 
particular as Mrs. Bassett kept him alongside of 
202 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

the machine and was so tumble interested herself. 
And when, this partic’lar afternoon, Henry G. in- 
vites us all to go out with him for a little ‘ roll 
around,’ the widow was so tickled and insisted so 
that he just had to go ; he didn’t dast say no. 

“ Somehow or ’nother — I ain’t just sure yet 
how it happened — the seatin’ arrangements was 
made like this: Jonadab and Bradbury on the 
front seat, and me and Henrietta in the stuffed 
cockpit astern. We rolled out and purred along 
the road, smooth as a cat trottin’ to dinner. No 
speedin’, no joltin’, no nothin’. ^Twas a ‘ gentle- 
man’s car ’ ; there wa’n’t no doubt about that. 

“We went ’way over to Bayport and Orham 
and beyond. And all the time Bradbury kept 
p’intin’ out the diff’rent levers to Jonadab and tell- 
In’ him how to work ’em. Finally, after we’d 
headed back, he asked Jonadab to take the wheel 
and steer her a spelL Said his heart was feelin’ 
sort of mean and ’twould do him good to rest. 

“ Jonadab said no, emphatic and more’n aver- 
age ugly, but Henry G. kept beggin’ and pleadin’, 
and pretty soon the widow put in her oar. He 
must do it, to please her. He had said he could 
do it — had told her so — and now he must make 
good. Why, when Mr. Loveland 

“ ‘ All right,’ snarls Jonadab. ‘ I’ll try. But 
if ever ’ 

“ ‘ Hold on I ’ says I. ‘ Here’s where I get 
out.’ 


203 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ However, they wouldn’t let me, and the Cap’a 
took the wheel. His jaw was set and his hands 
shakin’, but he done it. Hettie had give her 
orders and she was skipper. 

‘‘ For a consider’ble spell we just crawled. 
Jonadab was steerin’ less crooked every minute 
and it tickled him; you could see that. 

“ ^ Answers her helium tiptop, don’t she ? ’ he 
says. 

“ ‘ Bet your life ! ’ says Bradbury. ‘ Better 
put on a little more speed, hadn’t we ? ’ 

He put it on himself, afore the new pilot 
could stop him, and we commenced to move. 

“ ‘ When you want to make her jump,’ he says, 

‘ you press down on that with your foot, and you 
shove the spark back.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Shut up ! ’ howls Jonadab. ‘ Belay ! Don’t 
you dast to touch that. I’m scart to death as ’tis. 
Here I you take this wheel.’ 

“ But he wouldn’t, and we went on at a good 
clip. For a green hand the Cap’n was leavin’ a 
pretty straight wake. 

“ * Gosh I ’ he says, after a spell; ‘ I b’lieve I’m 
kind of gettin’ the hang of the craft.’ 

^ ‘ Course you are,’ says Bradbury. ‘ I 
told— Oh I’ 

He straightens up, grabs at his vest, and 
slumps down against the back of the seat. 

** ‘ What is it ? ’ screams the widow. ‘ Oh, 
what is it, Mr. Bradbury? ’ 

204 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 


“ He answers, plucky, but toler’ble faintlike. 
* My heart ! ’ he gasps. ‘ I — Pm afraid Pm goin’ 
to have one of my attacks. I must get to a doctor 
quick.’ 

“ ‘ Doctor I ’ I sings out. ‘ Great land of love ! 
there ain’t a doctor nigher than Denboro, and that’s 
four mile astern.’ 

‘ Never mind,’ cries the Bassett woman. 
‘ We must go there, then. Turn around, Jonadab ! 
Turn around at once ! Mr. Bradbury ’ 

“ But poor Henry G. was curled up against the 
cushions and we couldn’t get nothin’ out of him but 
groans. And all the time we was sailin’ along up 
the road. 

“ ‘ Turn around, Jonadab ! ’ orders Henrietta. 
‘ Turn around and go for the doctor ! ’ 

“ Jonadab’s hands was clutched on that wheel, 
and his face was white as his rubber collar. 

“ ‘ Jerushy I ’ he groans desperate, ‘ I — I don’t 
know how to turn around.’ 

“ ‘ Then stop, you foolhead ! ’ I bellers. ‘ Stop 
where you be ! ’ 

“And he moans — almost cryin’ he was: ‘I 
— I’ve forgotten how to stop* 

“ Talk about your situations ! If we wa’n’t in 
one then I miss my guess. Every minute we was 
sinkin’ Denboro belofv^ the horizon. 

“ ‘ We must get to a doctor,* says the 
widow. * Where is there another one, Mr. 
Wingate ? * 


205 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ The next one’s in Bayport,’ says I, ‘ and 
that’s ten mile ahead if it’s a foot.’ 

“ However, there wa’n’t nothin’ else for it, so 
toward Bayport we put. Bradbury groaned once 
in a while, and Mrs. Bassett got nervous. 

‘‘ ‘ We’ll never get there at this rate,’ says she. 
* Go faster, Jonadab. Faster! Press down on — 
on that thing he told you to. Please 1 for my sake.’ 

“ ‘ Don’t you — ’ I begun; but ’twas too late. 
He pressed, and away we went. We was eatin’ 
up the road now, I tell you, and though I was 
expectin’ every minute to be my next, I couldn’t 
help admirin’ the way the Cap’n steered. And, as 
for him, he was gettin’ more and more set up and 
confident. 

“ ‘ She handles like a yacht, Barzilla,’ he 
grunts, between his teeth. ‘ See me put her around 
the next buoy ahead there. Hey I how’s that? ’ 

“ The next ‘ buoy ’ was a curve in the road, 
and we went around it beautiful. So with the next 
and the next and the next. Bayport wa’n’t so very 
fur ahead. All to once another dreadful thought 
struck me. 

“ ‘ Look here I ’ I yells. ‘ How in time are we 
goin’ to stop when we — Ow!^ 

“ The Bassett woman had pinched my arm 
somethin’ savage. I looked at her, and she was 
scowlin’ and shakin’ her head. 

“ ‘ S-sh-sh I ’ she whispers, 
him. He’ll be frightened and- 
206 


Don’t disturb 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

“‘Frightened! Good heavens to Bets^M I 
caFlate he won’t be the only one that’s fri ’ 

“ But she looked so ugly that I shut up 
prompt, though I done a heap of thinkin’. On we 
went and, as we turned the next ‘ buoy,’ there, 
ahead of us, was another auto, somethin’ like ours, 
with only one person in it, a man, and goin’ in the 
same direction we was, though not quite so fast. 

“ Then I was scart. ‘ Hi, Jonadab 1 ’ I sings 
out. ‘ Heave to 1 Come about 1 Shorten sail 1 
Do you want to run him down? Look out!^ 

“ I might as well have saved my breath. 
Heavin’ to and the rest of it wa’n’t included in 
our pilot’s education. On we went, same as ever. 
I don’t know what might have happened if the 
widow hadn’t kept her head. She leaned over the 
for’ard rail of the after cockpit and squeezed a 
rubber bag that was close to Jonadab’s starboard 
arm. It was j’ined to the fog whistle, I cal’late, 
’cause from under our bows sounded a beller like 
a bull afoul of a barb-wire fence. 

“ The feller in t’other car turned his head and 
looked. Then he commenced to sheer off to wind’- 
ard so’s to let us pass. But all the time he kept 
lookin’ back and starin’ and, as we got nigher, and 
I could see him plainer through the dust, he looked 
more and more familiar. ’Twas somebody I 
knew. 

“ Then I heard a little grunt, or gasp, from 
Cap’n Jonadab. He was leanin’ for’ard over the 
207 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


wheel, starin’ at the man in the other auto. The 
nigher we got, the harder he stared; and the man 
in front was actin’ similar in regards to him. 
And, all to once, the head car stopped swingin’ off 
to wind’ard, turned back toward the middle of the 
road, and begun to go like smoke. The next in- 
stant I felt our machine fairly jump beneath me. 
I looked at Jonadab’s foot. ’Twas pressed hard 
down on the speed lever. 

“‘You crazy loon!’ I screeched. ‘You — 
you — you — Stop it! Take your foot off that! 
Do you want to ! ’ 

“ I was climbin’ over the back of the front seat, 
my knee pretty nigh on Bradbury’s head. But, 
would you believe it, that Jonadab man let go of 
the wheel with one hand — let go of it, mind you — 
and give me a shove that sent me backward in 
Henrietta Bassett’s lap. 

“ ‘ Barzilla ! ’ he growled, between his teeth, 
‘ you set where you be and keep off the quarter- 
deck. I’m runnin’ this craft. I’ll beat that Love- 
land this time or run him under, one or t’other ! ’ 

“ As sure as I’m alive this minute, the man in 
the front car was Tobias Loveland! 

“ And from then on — Don’t talk! I dream 
about it nights and wake up with my arms around 
the bedpost. I ain’t real sure, but I kind of have 
an idee that the bedpost business comes from the 
fact that I was huggin’ the widow some of the 
time. If I did, ’twa’n’t knowin’ly, and she never 
208 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

mentioned it afterwards. All I can swear to is 
clouds of dust, and horns honkin’, and telegraph 
poles lookin’ like teeth in a comb, and Jonadab’s 
face set as the Day of Judgment. 

“ He kept his foot down on the speed place 
as if ’twas glued. He shoved the ‘spark ’ — what- 
ever that is — ’way back. Every once in a while 
he yelled, yelled at the top of his lungs. What he 
yelled hadn’t no sense to it. Sometimes you’d 
think that he was drivin’ a horse and next that he 
was handlin’ a schooner in a gale. 

“ ‘ Git dap ! ’ he’d whoop. ‘ Go it, you crip- 
ples! Keep her nose right in the teeth of it! 
She’s got the best of the water, so let her bile! 
Whe-^-^.^ ' 

“ We didn’t stop at Bayport. Our skipper 
had made other arrangements. However, the way 
I figgered it, we was long past needin’ a doctor, 
and you can get an undertaker ’most anywhere. 
We went through the village like a couple of 
shootin’ stars, Tobias about a length ahead, his 
hat blowed off, his hair — what little he’s got — 
streamin’ out behind, and that blessed red buzz 
wagon of his fairly skimmin’ the hummocks and 
jumpin’ the smooth places. And right astern of 
him comes Jonadab, bangin’ to the wheel, his hat 
gone, his mouth open, and fillin’ the dust with yells 
and coughs. 

“ You could see folks runnin’ to doors and 
front gates; but you never saw ’em reach where 
209 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


they was goin’ — time they done that we was some- 
wheres round the next bend. A pullet run over us 
once — yes, I mean just that. She ctewed the top 
of the widow’s bunnit as we slid underneath her, 
and by the time she lit we was so fur away she 
wa’n’t visible to the naked eye. Bradbury — who’d 
got better remarkable sudden — ^was pawin’ at 
Jonadab’s arm, tryin’ to make him ease up; but 
he might as well have pawed the wind. As for 
Henrietta Bassett, she was acrost the back of the 
front seat tootin’ the horn for all she was wuth. 
And curled down in a heap on the cockpit floor 
was a fleshy, sea-farin’ person by the name of Bar- 
zilla Wingate, sufferin’ from chills and fever. 

“ I think ’twas on the long stretch of the Tru- 
met road that we beat Tobias. I know we passed 
somethin’ then, though just what I ain’t competent 
to testify. All I’m sure of is that, t’other side of 
Bayport village, the landscape got some less 
streaked and you could most gen’rally separate one 
house from the next. 

“ Bradbury looked at Henrietta and smiled, a 
sort of sickly smile. She was pretty pale, but she 
managed to smile back. I got up off the floor 
and slumped on the cushions. As for Cap’n Jona- 
dab Wixon, he’d stopped yellin’, but his face was 
one broad, serene grin. His mouth, through the 
dust and the dirt caked around it, looked like a 
rain gully in a sand-bank. And, occasional, he 
crowed, hoarse but vainglorious. 

210 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

“ ‘ Did you see me ? ’ he barked. ‘ Did you 
notice me lick him ? He’ll laugh at me, will he ? 
— him and his one-horse tin cart! Ho! ho! 
Why, you’d think he was settin’ down to rest! 
I’ve got him where I want him now! Ho, ho! 
Say, Henrietta, did you go swift as you — ? Land 
sakes! Mr. Bradbury, I forgot all about you. 
And I — I guess we must have got a good ways past 
the doctor’s place.’ 

“ Bradbury said never mind. He felt much 
better, and he cal’lated he’d do till we fetched the 
Old Home dock. He’d take the wheel, now, he 
guessed. 

“ But, would you b’lieve it, that fool Jonadab 
wouldn’t let him! He was used to the ship 
now, he said, and, if ’twas all the same to Henry 
G. and Hettie, he’d kind of like to run her into 
port. 

“ * She answers her helium fine,’ he says. 
‘ After a little practice I cal’late I could steer ’ 

“ ‘ Steer ! ’ sings out Bradbury. ^ Steer! 
Great Caesar’s ghost ! I give you my word, Cap’n 
Wixon, I never saw such handlin’ of a machine as 
you did goin’ through Bayport, in my life. You’re 
a wonder! ’ 

“ ‘ Um-hm,’ says Jonadab contented. ‘ I’ve 
steered a good many vessels in my time, through 
traffic and amongst the shoals, and never run afoul 
of nothin’ yet. I don’t see much diff’rence on 
shore — ’cept that it’s a little easier.’ 

21 1 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

** Easier! Wouldn’t that — Well, what’s 

the use of talkin’ ? 

“We got to the Old Home House safe and 
sound; Jonadab, actin’ under Bradbury’s orders, 
run her into the yard, slowin’ up and stoppin’ at 
the front steps slick as grease. He got out, his 
chest swelled up like a puffin’ pig, and went strut- 
tin’ in to tell everybody what he’d done to Love- 
land. I don’t know where Bradbury and the 
widow went. As for me, I went aloft and turned 
in. And ’twas two days and nights afore I got up 
again. I had a cold, anyway, and what I’d been 
through didn’t help it none. 

“ The afternoon of the second day, Bradbury 
come up to see me. He was dressed in his city 
clothes and looked as if he was goin’ away. Sure 
enough, he was; goin’ on the next train. 

“ ‘ Where’s Jonadab? ’ says I. 

“ ‘ Oh, he’s out in his car,’ he says. ‘ Huntin’ 
for Loveland again, maybe.’ 

“ ^ His car? You mean yours.’ 

“ ‘ No, I mean his. I sold my car to him yes- 
terday mornin’ for twenty-five hundred dollars 
cash.’ 

“I set up in bed. ‘ Go ’long! ’ I sings out. 

‘ You didn’t nuther! ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, I did. Sure thing. After that ride, 
you couldn’t have separated him from that ma- 
chine with blastin’ powder. He paid over the 
money like a little man.’ 

212 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

“ I laid down again. Jonadab Wixon payin’ 
twenty-five hundred dollars for a plaything! Not 
promisin’, but actually payin^ it ! 

“ ‘ Has — has the widow gone with him? ’ I 
asked, soon’s I could get my breath. 

“ He laughed sort of queer. ‘ No,’ he says, 
‘ she’s gone out of town for a few days. Ha, ha I 
Well, between you and me, Wingate, I doubt if 
she comes back again. She and I have made all 
we’re likely to in this neighborhood, and she’s too 
good a business woman to waste her time. Good- 
by; glad to have met you.’ 

“ But I smelt rat strong and wouldn’t let him 
go without seein’ the critter. 

“ ‘ Hold on ! ’ I says. ‘ There’s somethin’ un- 
derneath all this. Out with it. I won’t let on to 
the Cap’n if you don’t want me to.’ 

“ * Well,’ says he, laughin’ again, ‘ Mrs. Bas- 
sett won!t come back and I know it. She and I 
have sold four cars on the Cape in the last five 
weeks, and the profits’ll more’n pay vacation ex- 
penses. Two up in Wareham, one over in Or- 
ham, to Loveland ’ 

“ * Did you selh Tobias his? ’ I asks, settin’ up 
again. 

“ ‘ Hettie and I did — yes. Soon’s we landed 
him, we come over to bag old Wixon. I thought 
one time he’d kill us before we got him, but he 
didn’t. How he did run that thing 1 He’s a game 
sport.’ 


213 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“‘See here!’ says I. *You and Hettie 
sold — What do you mean by that? ’ 

“ ‘ Mrs. Bassett is my backer in the auto busi- 
ness,’ says he. ‘ She put in her money and I fur- 
nished the experience. We’ve got a big plant up 
in — ’ namin’ a city in Connecticut. 

“ I fetched a long breath. ‘ Well! * says I. 
‘ And all this makin’ eyes at Tobe and Jonadab 
was just — just ’ 

“ ‘ Just bait, that’s all,’ says he. ‘ I told you 
she was a good business woman.’ 

“ I let this sink in good. Then says I, 
* Humph I I swan to man 1 And how’s your heart 
actin’ now ? ’ 

“ ‘ Fine I ’ he says, winkin’. ‘ I had that at- 
tack so’s the Cap’n would learn to run on his own 
hook. I didn’t expect quite so much of a run, but 
I’m satisfied. Don’t you worry about my heart 
disease. That twenty-five hundred cured it. 
’Twas all in the way of business,’ says Henry G. 
Bradbury.” 

“Whew!” whistled Captain Hiram as Bar- 
zilla reached into his pocket for pipe and tobacco. 
“ Whew I I should say your partner had a nar- 
rer escape. Want to look out sharp for widders. 
They’re dangerous, hey, Sol?” 

The depot master did not answer. Captain 
Hiram asked another question. “ How’d Jona- 
dab take Hettie’s leavin’ ? ” he inquired. 

“ Oh,” said Barzilla, “ I don’t think he 
214 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

minded so much. He was too crazy about his 
new auto to care for anything else. Then, too, 
he was b’ilin’ mad ’cause Loveland swore out a 
warrant against him for speedin’. 

“‘Nice trick, ain’t it?’ he says. ‘I knew 
Tobe was a poor loser, but I didn’t think he’d be 
so low down as all that. Says I was goin’ fifty 
mile an hour. He! he! Well, I was movin’, 
that’s a fact. / don’t care. ’Twas wuth the 
twenty-dollar fine.’ 

“ ‘ Maybe so,’ I says, ‘ but ’twon’t look very 
pretty to have a special auto constable hauled up 
and fined for breakin’ the law he’s s’posed to 
protect.’ 

“ He hadn’t thought of that. His face 
clouded over. 

“‘No use, Barzilla,’ says he; ‘I’ll have to 
give it up.’ 

“ ‘ Guess you will,’ says I. ‘ Automobilin’ 
is ’ 

“ ‘ I don’t mean automobilin’,’ he snorts dis- 
gusted. ‘ Course not ! I mean bein’ constable.’ 

“ So there you are ! From cussin’ automobiles 
he’s got so that he can’t talk enough good about 
’em. And every day sence then he’s out on the 
road layin’ for another chance at Tobias. I hope 
he gets that chance pretty soon, because — ^well, 
there’s a rumor goin’ round that Loveland is plan- 
nin’ to swap his car for a bigger and faster one. 
If he does ...” 


215 


THE DfiPOT MASTER 


“ If he does,’’ interrupted Captain Sol, “ I 
hope you’ll fix the next race for over here. I’d 
like to see you go by, Barzilla.” 

“ Guess you’d have to look quick to see him,” 
laughed Stitt. “ Speakin’ about automobiles ” 

“ By gum ! ” ejaculated Wingate, “ you’d have 
to look somewheres else to find me. I’ve got all 
the auto racin’ I want ! ” 

“ Speakin’ of automobiles,” began Captain 
Bailey again. No one paid the slightest atten- 
tion. 

“How’s Dusenberry, your baby, Hiram?” 
asked the depot master, turning to Captain Baker. 
“ His birthday’s the Fourth, and that’s only a 
couple of days off.” 

The proud parent grinned, then looked trou- 
bled. 

“ Why, he ain’t real fust-rate,” he said. 
“ Seems to be some under the weather. Got a 
cold and kind of sore throat. Dr. Parker says 
he cal’lates it’s a touch of tonsilitis. There’s con- 
sider’ble fever, too. I was hopin’ the doctor’d 
come again to-day, but he’s gone away on a fishin’ 
cruise. Won’t be home till late to-morrer. I 
s’pose me and Sophrony hadn’t ought to Vv^orry. 
Dr. Parker seems to know about the case.” 

“Humph!” grunted the depot master, 
“ there’s only two bein’s in creation that know it 
all. One’s the Almighty and t’other’5 young 
Parker. He’s right out of medical school and is 
216 % 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

just as fresh as his diploma. He hadn't any busi- 
ness to go fishin' and leave his patients. We lost 
a good man when old Dr. Ryder died. He . . . 
Oh, well! you mustn't worry, Hiram. Dusen- 
berry’ll pull out in time for his birthday. Coin’ 
to celebrate, was you? ” 

Captain Baker nodded. “ Um-hm," he said. 
“ Sophrony's goin' to bake a frosted cake and 
stick three candles on it — he's three year old, you 
know — and I've made him a ‘ twuly boat with 
sails,' that's what he's been beggin' for. Ho 1 ho 1 
he's the cutest little shaver! " 

“ Speakin' of automobiles," began Bailey Stitt 
for the third time. 

“ That youngster of yours, Hiram,” went on 
the depot master, “ is the right kind. Compared 
with some of the summer young ones that strike 
this depot, he's a saint." 

Captain Hiram grinned. “ That’s what I tell 
Sophrony,” he said. “ Sometimes when Dusen- 
berry gets to cuttin’ up and she is sort of pro- 
voked, I say to her, ‘ Old lady,’ I say, ‘ if you 
think thafs a naughty boy, you ought to have 
seen Archibald.’ " 

“Who was Archibald?" asked Barzilla. 

“ He was a young rip that Sim Phinney and I 
run across four years ago when we went on our 
New York cruise together. The weir business 
had been pretty good and Sim had been teasin’ me 
to go on a vacation with him, so I went. Sim 
15 217 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

ain’t stopped talkin’ about our experiences yet 
Ho! ho!” 

“ You bet he ain’t! ” laughed the depot mas- 
ter. “ One mix-up you had with a priest, and a 
love story, and land knows what. He talks about 
that to this day.” 

“What was it? He never told me,” said 
Wingate. 

“ Why, it begun at the Golconda House, ^thc 
hotel where Sim and I was stayin’. We ” 

“Did you put up at the Golconda?” inter- 
rupted Barzilla. “ Why, Cap’n Jonadab and me 
stayed there when we went to New York.” 

“ I know you did. Jonadab recommended it 
to Sim, and Sim took the recommendation. That 
Golconda House is the only grudge I’ve got 
against Jonadab Wixon. It sartin is a tough old 
tavern.” 

“ I give in to that. Jonadab’s so sot on it 
account of havin’ stopped there on his honeymoon, 
years and years ago. He’s too stubborn to own 
it’s bad. It’s a matter of principle with him, and 
he’s sot on principle.” 

“ Yes,” continued Baker. “ Well, Sim and 
me had been at that Golconda three days and 
nights. Mornin’ of the fourth day we walked 
out of the dinin’ room after breakfast, feelin’ 
pretty average chipper. Gettin’ safe past another 
meal at that hotel was enough of itself to make 
a chap grateful. 


218 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

‘‘We walked out of the dinin’ room and into 
the office. And there, by the clerk’s desk, was a 
big, tall man, dressed up In clothes that was loud 
enough to speak for themselves, and with a shiny 
new tall hat, set with a list to port, on his head. 
He was smooth-faced and pug-nosed, with an 
upper lip like a camel’s. 

“ He didn’t pay much attention to us, nor to 
anybody else, for the matter of that. He was as 
mournful as a hearse, for all his joyful togs. 

“ ‘ Fine day, ain’t It? ’ says Sim, social. 

“ The tall chap looked up at him from under 
the deck of the beaver hat. 

“‘Huh!’ he growls out, and looks down 
again. 

“ ‘ I say It’s a fine day,’ said Phinney again. 

“ ‘ I was after bearin’ yez say It,’ says the man, 
and walks off, scowlin’ like a meat ax. We looked 
after him. 

“ ‘ Who was that murderer? ’ asks Sim of the 
clerk. ‘ And when are they going to hang him ? ’ 

“ ‘ S-sh-sh I ’ whispers the clerk, scart ‘ ’TIs 
the boss. The bloke what runs the hotel. He’s 
a fine man, but he has troubles. He’s blue.’ 

“ ‘ So that’s the boss, hey? ’ says I. ‘ And he’s 
blue. Well, he looks It. What’s troublin’ him? 
Ain’t business good ? ’ 

“ ‘ Never better. It ain’t that. He has things 
on his mind. You see ’ 

“ I cal’late he’d have told us the yarn, only 
219 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Sim wouldn’t wait to hear it. We was goin’ sight- 
seein’ and we had ‘ aquarium ’ and ‘ Stock Ex- 
change ’ on the list for that afternoon. The hotel 
clerk had made out a kind of schedule for us of 
things we’d ought to see while we was in New 
York, and so fur we’d took in the zoological 
menagerie and the picture museum, and Central 
Park and Brooklyn Bridge. 

“ On the way downtown in the elevated rail- 
road Sim done some preachin’. His text was took 
from the Golconda House sign, which had ‘ T. 
Dempsey, Proprietor,’ painted on it. 

“ ‘ It’s that Dempsey man’s conscience that 
makes him so blue, Hiram,’ says Sim. ‘ It’s the 
way he makes his money. He sells liquor.’ 

“ ‘ Oh! ’ says I. ‘ Is that it? I thought may- 
be he’d been sleepin’.on one of his own hotel beds. 
TheyWe enough to make any man blue — ^black and 
blue.’ 

“ The ‘ aquarium ’ wa’n’t a success. Phinney 
was disgusted. He give one look around, grabbed 
me by the arm, and mrrched me out of that build- 
ing same as Deacon Titcomb, of the Holiness 
Church at Denboro, marched his boy out of the 
Universalist sociable. 

“ ‘ It’s nothin’ but a whole passel of fish,’ he 
snorts. ‘ The idea of sendin’ two Cape Codders 
a couple of miles to look at fish. I’ve looked at 
’em and fished for ’em, and et ’em all the days of 
my life,’ he says, ‘ and when I’m on a vacation I 
220 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

want a change. I’d forgot that “ aquarium ” 
meant fish, or you wouldn’t have got me within 
smellin’ distance of it. Necessity’s one thing and 
pleasure’s another, as the boy said about takin’ 
his ma’s spring bitters.’ 

“ So we headed for the Stock Exchange. We 
got our gallery tickets at the bank where the Gol- 
conda folks kept money, and in a little while we 
was leanin’ over a kind of marble bulwarks and 
starin’ down at a gang of men smokin’ and foolin’ 
and carryin’ on. ’Twas a dull day, so we found 
out afterward, and I guess likely that was true. 
Anyway, I never see such grown-up men act so 
much like children. There was a lot of poles 
stuck up around with signs on ’em, and around 
every pole was a circle of bedlamites hollerin’ like 
loons. Hollerin’ was the nighest to work of any- 
thing I see them fellers do, unless ’twas tearin’ up 
papers and shovin’ the pieces down somebody’s 
neck or throwin’ ’em in the air like a play-actin’ 
snowstorm. 

“ ‘ What’s the matter with ’em ? ’ says 1. 
* High finance taken away their brains ? ’ 

“ But Phinney was awful interested. He 
dumped some money in a mine once. The mine 
caved in on it, I guess, for not a red cent ever 
come to the top again, but he’s been a kind of 
prophet concernin’ finances ever sence. 

‘‘ ‘ I want to see the big fellers,’ says he. 
‘ S’pose that fat one is Morgan ? ’ 

221 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ I don’t know,’ says L ‘ Me and Pierpont 
ain’t met for ever so long. Don’t lean over and 
point so ; you’re makin’ a hit.’ 

“ He was, too. Some of the younger crew on 
the floor was lookin’ up and grinnin’, and more 
kept stoppin’ and joinin’ in all the time. I cal’late 
we looked kind of green and soft, hangin’ over 
that marble rail, like posies on a tombstone; and 
green is the favorite color to a stockbroker, they 
tell me. Anyhow, we had a good-sized congre- 
gation under us in less than no time. Likewise, 
they got chatty, and commenced to unload re- 
marks. 

“ ‘ Land sakes ! ’ says one. ‘ How’s punkins? ’ 

‘‘‘How’s crops down your way?’ says an- 
other. 

“ Now there wa’n’t nothin’ real bright and 
funny about these questions — more fresh than new, 
they struck me — but you’d think they was gems 
from the comic almanac, j edgin’ by the haw-haws. 
Next minute a little bald-headed smart Alec, with 
clothes that had a tailor’s sign hull down and out 
of the race, steps to the front and commences to 
make a speech. 

“ ‘ Gosh t’mighty, gents,’ says he. ‘ With 
your kind permission, Pll sing “ When Reuben 
Comes to Town.” ’ 

“ And he did sing it, too, in a voice that 
needed cultivatin’ worse’n a sandy front yard. 
And with every verse the congregation whooped 
222 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

and laughed and cheered. When the anthem was 
concluded, all hands set up a yell and looked at 
us to see how we took it. 

“ As for me, I was b’ilin’ mad and mortified 
and redhot all over. But Sim Phinney was as 
cool as an October evenin’. Once in a while old 
Sim comes out right down brilliant, and he done 
it now. He smiled, kind of tolerant and easy, 
same as you might at the tricks of a hand-organ 
monkey. Then he claps his hands, applaudin’ like, 
reaches into his pocket, brings up a couple of pen- 
nies, and tosses ’em down to little baldhead, who 
was standin’ there blown up with pride. 

“ For a minute the crowd was still. And then 
such a yell as went up! The whole floor went 
wild. Next thing I knew the gallery was filled 
with brokers, grabbin’ us by the hands, poundin’ 
us on the back, beggin’ us to come have a drink, 
and generally goin’ crazy. We was solid with the 
system ’ for once in our lives. We could have 
had that whole buildin’, from marble decks to 
gold maintruck, if we’d said the word. Fifty 
yellin’ lunatics was on hand to give it to us; the 
other two hundred was joyfully mutilatin’ the 
baldhead. 

“ Well, I wanted to get away, and so did Sim, 
I guess; but the crowd wouldn’t let us. We’d got 
to have a drink; hogsheads of drinks. That was 
the best joke on Eddie Lewisburg that ever was. 
Come on! We must come on! Whee! Wow! 

223 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ I don’t know how It would have ended if 
some one hadn’t butted head first through the 
mob and grabbed me by the shoulder. I was 
ready to fight by this time, and maybe I’d have 
begun to fight if the chap who grabbed me hadn’t 
been a few inches short of seven foot high. And, 
besides that, I knew him. ’Twas Sam Holden, a 
young feller I knew when he boarded here one 
summer. His wife boarded here, too, only she 
wa’n’t his wife then. Her name was Grace Har- 
grave and she was a fine girl. Maybe you remem- 
ber ’em, Sol?” 

The depot master nodded. 

“ I remember ’em well,” he said. “ Liked 
’em both — everybody did.” 

“Yes. Well, he knew us and was glad to 
see us. 

“ ‘ It is you ! ’ he sings out. ‘ By George ! I 
thought it was when I came on the floor just now. 
My ! but I’m glad to see you. And Mr. Phinney, 
too! Bully! Clear out and let ’em alone, you 
Indians.’ 

“ The crowd didn’t want to let us alone, but 
Sam got us clear somehow, and out of the Ex- 
change Buildin’ and into the back room of a kind 
of restaurant. Then he gets chairs for us, orders 
cigars, and shakes hands once more. 

“ ‘ To think of seein’ you two in New York! ’ 
he says, wonderin’. ‘What are you doin’ here? 
When did you come? Tell us about it.’ 

224 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

“ So we told him about our pleasure cruise, 
and what had happened to us so fur. It seemed 
to tickle him ’most to death. 

“ ‘ Grace and I are keepin’ house, in a modest 
way, uptown,’ says Sam, ‘ and she’ll be as glad to 
she you as I am. You’re cornin’ up to dinner with 
me to-night, and you’re goin’ to make us a visit, 
you know,’ he says. 

“ Well, if we didn’t know it then, we learned 
it right away. Nothin’ that me or Simeon could 
say would make him change the course a point. 
So Phinney went up to the Golconda House and 
got our bags, and at half-past four that afternoon 
the three of us was in a hired hack bound uptown. 

“ On the way Sam was full of fun as ever. 
He laughed and joked, and asked questions about 
East Harniss till you couldn’t rest. All of a sud- 
den he slaps his knee and sings out: 

“ ‘ There ! I knew I’d forgotten somethin’. 
Our butler left yesterday, and I was to call at the 
intelligence office on my way home and see if 
they’d scared up a new one.’ 

“ I looked at Simeon, and he at me. 

** * Hum I ’ says I, thinkin’ about that ‘ mod- 
est ’ housekeeping. ‘ Do you keep a butler? ’ 

‘‘ ‘ Not long,’ says he, dry as a salt codfish. 
And that’s all we could g^ out of him. 

“ I s’pose there’s different kinds of mtodesty. 
We hadn’t more’n got inside the gold-plated front 
door of that house when I decided that the Holden 
225 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


brand of housekeepin’ wa’n’t bashful enough to 
blush. If rd been runnin’ that kind of a place, 
the only time I’d felt shy and retirin’ was when 
the landlord came for the rent. 

“ One of the fo’mast hands — ^hlred girls, I 
mean — went aloft to fetch Mrs. Holden, and 
when Grace came down she was just as nice and 
folksy and glad to see us as a body could be. But 
she looked sort of troubled, just the same. 

“ ‘ I’m ever so glad you’re here,’ says she to 
me and Simeon. ‘ But, oh, Sam ! it’s a shame the 
way things happen. Cousin Harriet and Archie 
came this afternoon to stay until to-morrow. 
They’re on their way South. And I have prom- 
ised that you and I shall take Harriet to see Mar- 
lowe to-night. Of course we won’t do It now, 
under any consideration, but you know what 
she Is.’ 

“ Sam seemed to know. He muttered some- 
thin’ that sounded like a Scripture text. Simeon 
spoke up prompt. 

“ ‘ Indeed you will,’ says he, decided. ‘ Me 
and Hiram ain’t that kind. We’ve got relations 
of our own, and we know what it means when 
they come a-visitin’. You and Mr. Holden’ll take 
your comp’ny and go to see — ^whatever ’tis you 
want to see, and we’ll make ourselves to home till 
you get back. Yes, you will, or we clear out this 
minute.’ 

“ They didn’t want to, but we was sot, and so 
226 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

they give in finally. It seemed that this Cousin 
Harriet was a widow relation of the Holdens, who 
lived in a swell country house over in Connecticut 
somewhere, and was rich as the rest of the tribe. 
Archie was her son. ‘ Hers and the Evil One’s,’ 
Sam said. 

“ We didn’t realize how much truth there was 
in this last part until we run afoul of Archie and 
his ma at dinner time. Cousin Harriet was tall 
and middlin’ slim, thirty-five years old, maybe, at 
a sale for taxes, but discounted to twenty at her 
own valuation. She was got up regardless, and 
had a kind of chronic, tired way of talkin’, and a 
condescendin’ look to her, as if she was on top of 
Bunker Hill monument, and all creation was on 
its knees down below. She didn’t warm up to 
Simeon and me much ; eyed us over through a pair 
of gilt spyglasses, and admitted that she w^as 
‘ charmed, I’m sure.’ Likewise, she was afflicted 
with ‘ nerves,’ which must be a divil of a disease — 
for everybody but the patient, especial. 

“ Archie — his ma hailed him as ‘ Archibald, 
dear ’ — showed up pretty soon in tow of his 
‘ maid,’ a sweet-faced, tired-out Irish girl named 
Margaret. ‘ Archibald, dear,’ was five years old 
or so, sufferin’ from curls and the lack of a lickin’. 
I never see a young one that needed a strap ile 
more. 

“ ‘ How d’ye do Archie? ’ says Simeon, hold- 
in’ out his hand. 


227 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


‘‘Archie didn’t « take the hand. Instead of 
that he points at Phinney and commences to laugh. 

“ ‘ Ho, ho ! ’ says he, dancin’ and pointin’. 
‘ Look at the funny whiskers.’ 

“ Sim wa’n’t expectin’ that, and it set him all 
aback, like he’d run into a head squall. He took 
hold of his beard and looked foolish. Sam and 
Grace looked ashamed and mad. Cousin Harriet 
laughed one of her lazy laughs. 

“ ‘ Archibald, de-ar,’ she drawls, ‘ you mustn’t 
speak that way. Now be nice, and play with Mar- 
garet durin’ dinner, that’s a good boy.’ 

“ ‘ I won’t,’ remarks Archie, cheerful. ‘ I’m 
goin’ to dine with you, mama.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, no, you’re not, dear. You’ll have your 
own little table, and ’ 

“ Then ’twas ‘ Hi, yi ! ’ ‘ Bow, wow ! ’ Archi- 
bald wa’n’t hankerin’ for little tables. He was 
goin’ to eat with us, that’s what. His ma, she 
argued with him and pleaded, and he yelled and 
stamped and hurrahed. When Margaret tried to 
soothe him he went at her like a wild-cat, and 
kicked and pounded her sinful. She tried to take 
him out of the room, and then Cousin Harriet 
come down on her like a scow load of brick. 

“ ‘ Haven’t I told you,’ says she, sharp and 
vinegary, ‘not to oppose the child in that way? 
Archibald has such a sensitive nature,’ she says to 
Grace, ‘ that opposition arouses him just as it did 
me at his age. Very well, dear; you may dine 
228 


CAPTAIN JONADAB GOES 

with us to-night, If you wish. Oh, my poor 
nerves! Margaret, why don’t you place a chair 
for Master Archibald? The creature Is absolutely 
stupid at times,’ she says, talkin’ about that poor 
maid afore her face with no more thought for her 
feelln’s than If she was a wooden image. ‘ She 
has no tact whatever. I wouldn’t have Archi- 
bald’s spirit broken for anything.’ 

“ ’Twas his neck that needed breakin’ If you 
asked me. That was a joyful meal, now I tell you. 

“ There was more joy when ’twas over. Archie 
didn’t want to go to bed, havin’ desires to set up 
and torment Simeon with questions about his whisk- 
ers; askin’ If they growed or was tied on, and 
things like that. Course he didn’t know his ma 
was goln’ to the show, or he wouldn’t have let 
her. But finally he was coaxed upstairs by Mar- 
garet and a box of candy, and, word havin’ been 
sent down that he was asleep, Sam got out his 
plug hat, and Grace and Cousin Harriet got on 
their fur-lined dolmans and knit clouds, and was 
ready for the hack. 

“ * I feel mighty mean to go off and leave you 
this way,’ says Sam to me and Simeon. ‘ But you 
make yourself at home, won’t you? This Is your 
house to-night, you know; servants and all.’ 

“ ‘ How about that boy’s wakin’ up? ’ says L 
‘ Oh, his maid’ll attend to him. If she needs 
any help you can give it to her,’ he says, winkin’ 
on the side. 


229 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ But Cousin Harriet was right at his star- 
board beam, and she heard him. She flew up like 
a settin’ hen. 

“ ‘ Indeed they will not! ’ she sings out. * If 
anyone but Margaret was to attempt to control 
Archibald, I don’t dare think what might happen. 
I shall not stir from this spot until these persons 
promise not to interfere in any way; Archibald, 
dear, is such a sensitive child.’ 

“So we promised not to interfere, although 
Sim Phinney looked disappointed when he done it. 
I could see that he’d had hopes afore he give that 
promise.” 


CHAPTER XI 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 

S O they left you and Sim Phinney to keep 
house, did they, Hiram?’’ observed Win- 
gate. 

“ They did. And, for a spell, we figgered on 
bein’ free from too much style. 

“ After they’d gone we loafed into the settin’ 
room or libr’ry, or whatever you call it, and come 
to anchor in a couple of big lazy chairs. 

“ ‘ Now,’ says I, takin’ off my coat, ‘ we can 
be com f’ table.’ 

“ But we couldn’t. In bobs a servant girl to 
know if we ‘ wanted anything.’ We didn’t, but 
she looked so shocked when she see me in my shirt 
sleeves that I put the coat on again, feelin’ as if 
I’d ought to blush. And in a minute back she 
comes to find out if we was sitre we didn’t want 
anything. Sim was hitchin’ in his chair. Between 
‘ nerves ’ and Archibald, his temper was raw on 
the edges. 

“ * Say,’ he bursts out, * you look kind of pale 
to me. What you need is fresh air. Why don’t 
you go take a walk ? ’ 


231 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ The girl looked at him with her mouth open. 

“ ‘ Oh/ says she, ‘ I couldn’t do that, thank 
you, sir. That would leave no one but the cook 
and the kitchen girl. And the master said you 
was to be made perfectly comf’table, and ’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ says Sim, dry, ‘ I heard him say it. 
And we can’t be comf’table with you shut up in 
the house this nice evenin’. Go and take a walk, 
and take the cook and stewardess with you. Don’t 
argue about it. I’m skipper here till the boss gets 
back. Go, the three of you, and go now. D’ye 
hear? ’ 

‘‘ There was a little more talk, but not much. 
In five minutes or so the downstairs front door 
banged, and there was gigglin’ outside. 

‘‘ ‘ There,’ says Simeon, peelin’ off his coat 
and throwin’ himself back in one chair with his 
feet on another one. ‘ Now, by Judas, I’m goin’ 
to be homey and happy like poor folks. I don’t 
wonder that Harriet woman’s got nerves. Darn 
style, anyhow 1 Pass over that cigar box, Hiram.’ 

“ ’Twas half an hour later or so when Mar- 
garet, the nursemaid, came downstairs. I’d al- 
most forgot her. We was tame and toler’ble con- 
tented by that time. Phinney called to her as she 
went by the door. 

“ ‘ Is that young one asleep ? ’ he asked. 

‘ Yes, sir,’ says she, ‘ he is. Is there any- 
thing I can do? Did you want anything? ’ 

232 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


“ Simeon looks at me. ‘ I swan to man, it’s 
catchin’ ! ’ he says. ‘ They’ve all got it. No, we 
don’t want anything, except — What’s the mat- 
ter? You don’t need fresh air, do you? ’ 

The girl looked as if she’d lost her last 
friend. Her pretty face was pale and her eyes 
was wet, as if she’d been cryin’. 

“ ‘ No, sir,’ says she, puzzled. ‘ No, sir, 
thank you, sir.’ 

“ ‘ She’s tired out, that’s all,’ says I. I swan, 
I pitied the poor thing. ‘You go somewheres 
and take a nap,’ I told her. ‘ Me and my friend 
won’t tell.’ 

“ Oh, no, she couldn’t do that. It wa’n’t that 
she was tired — no more tired than usual — ^but 
she’d been that troubled In her mind lately, askin’ 
our pardon, that she was near to crazy. 

“ We was sorry for that, but it didn’t seem 
to be none of our business, and she was turnin’ 
away, when all at once she stops and turns back 
again. 

“‘Might I ask you gintlemen a question?’ 
she says, sort of pleadin’. ‘ Sure I mane no harm 
by it. Do aither of you know a man be the name 
of Michael O’Shaughnessy ? ’ 

“ Me and Sim looked at each other. 
‘ Which? ’ says I. ‘ Mike O’ who? ’ says Simeon. 

“ ‘ Aw, don’t you know him ? ’ she begs. 
‘ Don^t you know him ? Sure I hoped you might. 
If you’d only tell me where he is I’d git on me 
16 233 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


knees and pray for you. O Mike, Mike! why 
did you leave me like this? What’ll become of 
me? ’ 

* “ And she walks off down the hall, coverin’ 
her face with her hands and cryin’ as if her heart 
was broke. 

“ ‘ There 1 there I ’ says Simeon, runnin’ after 
her, all shook up. He’s a kind-hearted man — es- 
pecially to nice-lookin’ females. ‘ Don’t act so,’ 
he says. ‘ Be a good girl. Come right back into 
the settin’ room and tell me all about it. Me and 
Cap’n Baker ain’t got nerves, and we ain’t rich, 
neither. You can talk to us. Come, come! ’ 

“ She didn’t know how to act, seemingly. She 
was like a dog that’s been kicked so often he’s sus- 
picious of a pat on the head. And she was cryin’ 
and sobbin’ so, and askin’ our pardon for doin’ it, 
that it took a good while to get at the real yarn. 
But we did get it, after a spell. 

“ It seems that the girl — her whole name was 
Margaret Sullivan — had been in this country but 
a month or so, havin’ come from Ireland in a 
steamboat to meet the feller who’d kept comp’ny 
with her over there. His name was Michael 
O’Shaughnessy, and he’d been in America for four 
years or more, livin’ with a cousin in Long Island 
City. And he’d got a good job at last, and he 
sent for her to come on and be married to him. 
And when she landed ’twas the cousin that met 
her. Mike had drawn a five-thousand-dollar prize 

234 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


In the Mexican lottery a week afore, and hadn’t 
been seen sence. 

“ So poor Margaret goes to the cousin’s to 
stay. And she found them poor as Job’s pet 
chicken, and havin’ hardly grub enough aboard to 
feed the dozen or so little cousins, let alone free 
boarders like her. And so, havin’ no money, she 
goes out one day to an Intelligence office where 
they deal In help, and puts In a blank askin’ for 
a job as servant girl. ’Twas a swell place, where 
bigbugs done their tradin’, and there she runs Into 
Cousin Harriet, who was a chronic customer, al- 
ways out of servants, owin’ to the complications 
of Archibald and nerves. And Harriet hires her, 
because she was pretty and would work for a 
shavin’ more’n nothin’, and carts her right off to 
Connecticut. And when Margaret sets out to 
write for her trunk, and to tell where she Is, she 
finds she’s lost the cousin’s address, and can’t re- 
member whether it’s Umpty-elghth Street or Tin 
Can Avenue. 

“ ‘ And, oh,’ says she, ‘ what shall I do ? The 
mistress is that hard to please, and the child Is that 
wicked till I want to die. And I have no money 
and no friends. O Mike! Mike! ’ she says. ‘ If 
you only knew you’d come to me. For It’s a good 
heart he has, although the five thousand dollars 
carried away his head,’ says she. 

“ I don’t believe I ever wanted to make a 
feller’s acquaintance more than I done that 

235 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


O’Shaughnessy man’s. The mean blackguard, to 
leave his girl that way. And ’twas easy to see 
what she’d been through with Cousin Harriet and 
that brat. We tried to comfort her all we could; 
promised to have a hunt through Long Island and 
the directory, and to help get her another place 
when she got back from the South, and so on. 
But ’twas kind of unsatisfactory. ’Twas her Mike 
she wanted. 

“ ‘ I told the Father about it at the church up 
there,’ she says, ‘ and he wrote, but the letters was 
lost, I guess. And I thought if I might see a 
priest here in New York he might help me. But 
the mistress is to go at noon to-morrer, and I’ll 
have no time. What shall I do ? ’ says she, and 
commenced to cry again. 

‘‘Then I had an idea. ‘Priest?* says I. 
‘ There’s a fine big church, with a cross on the 
ridgepole of it, not five minutes’ walk from this 
house. I see it as we was cornin’ up. Why don’t 
you run down there this minute ? ’ I says. 

“ No, she didn’t want to leave Archibald. 
Suppose he should wake up. 

“ ‘ All right,’ says I. ‘ Then I’ll go myself. 
And I’ll fetch a priest up here if I have to tote 
him on my back, like the feller does the codfish 
in the advertisin’ picture.’ 

“ I didn’t have to tote him. He lived in a 
mi^ty fine house, hitched onto the church, and 
there was half a dozen assistant parsons to help 
236 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


him do his preachin’. But he was big and fat and 
gray-haired and as jolly and as kind-hearted a 
feller as you’d want to meet. He said he’d come 
right along; and he done it. 

“ Phinney opened the door for us, * What’s 
the row? ’ says I, lookin’ at his face. 

“ ‘ Row?’ he snorts; ‘ there’s row enough for 
six. That da — excuse me, mister — that cussed 
Archibald has woke up.’ 

“He had; there wa’n’t no doubt about it. 
And he was raisin’ hob, too. The candy, mixed 
up with the dinner, had put his works in line with 
his disposition, and he was poundin’ and yellin’ 
upstairs enough to wake the dead, Margaret 
leaned over the balusters. 

“‘Is it the Father?’ she says. *Oh, dearl 
what’ll I do?’ 

“ ‘ Send some of the other servants to the 
boy,’ says the priest, ‘ and come down yourself.’ 

“ Simeon, lookin’ kind of foolish, explained 
what had become of the other servants. Father 
McGrath — that was his name — laughed and 
shook all over. 

“ ‘ Very well,’ says he. ‘ Then bring the 
young man down. Perhaps he’ll be quiet here.’ 

“ So pretty soon down come Margaret with 
Archibald, full of the Old Scratch, as usual, 
dressed up gay in a kind of red blanket nighty, 
with a rope around the middle of it. The young 
one spotted Simeon, and set up a whoop, 

237 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ Oh ! there’s the funny whiskers,’ he sings 

out. 

“ ‘ Good evenin’, my son,’ says the priest. 

“ ‘ Who’s the fat man? ’ remarks Archibald, 
sociable. ‘ I never saw such a red fat man. What 
makes him so red and fat ? ’ 

“ These questions didn’t make Father Mc- 
Grath any paler. He laughed, of course, but not 
as if ’twas the funniest thing he ever heard. 

“ ‘ So you think I’m fat, do you, my boy?’ 
says he. 

“ ‘ Yes, I do,’ says Archibald. ‘ Fat and red 
and funny. Most as funny as the whisker man. 
I never saw such funny-lookin’ people.’ 

“ He commenced to point and holler and 
laugh. Poor Margaret was so shocked and mor- 
tified she didn’t know what to do. 

‘‘ ‘ Stop your noise, sonny,’ says I. ‘ This gen- 
tleman wants to talk to your nurse.’ 

The answer I got was some unexpected. 

“ ‘ What makes your feet so big? ’ says Archie, 
pointin’ at my Sunday boots. ‘ Why do you wear 
shoes like that? Can’t you help it? You’re 
funny, too, aren’t you? You’re funnier than the 
rest of ’em.’ 

“ We all went into the library then, and Fa- 
ther McGrath tried to ask Margaret some ques- 
tions. I’d told him the heft of the yarn on the 
way from the church, and he was interested. But 
the questionin’ was mighty unsatisfyin’. Archi- 
238 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


bald was the whole team, and the rest of us was 
yeller dogs under the wagon. 

“ ‘ Can’t you keep that child quiet? ’ asks the 
priest, at last, losin’ his temper and speakin’ pretty 
sharp. 

“‘O Archie, dear I do be a nice boy,’ begs 
Margaret, for the eight hundredth time. 

“ ‘ Why don’t you punish him as he deserves? ’ 

“ ‘ Father, dear, I can’t. The mistress says 
he’s so sensitive that he has to have his own way. 
I’d lose my place if I laid a hand on him.’ 

“ ‘ Come on into the parlor and see the pic- 
tures, Archie,’ says I. 

“ ‘ I won’t,’ says Archibald. ‘ I’m goin’ to 
stay here and see the fat man make faces.’ 

“ ‘ You see,’ says Sim, apologizin’ ‘ we can’t 
touch him, ’cause we promised his ma not to in- 
terfere. And my right hand’s got cramps in the 
palm of it this minute,’ he adds, glarin’ at the 
young one. 

‘‘ Father McGrath stood up and reached for 
his hat. Margaret began to cry. Archibald, dear, 
whooped and kicked the furniture. And just then 
the front-door bell rang. 

“ For a minute I thought ’twas Cousin Har- 
riet and the Holdens come back, but then I knew 
it was hours too early for that. Margaret was 
too much upset to be fit for company, so I an- 
swered the bell myself. And who in the world 
should be standin’ on the steps but that big Demp- 

239 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


sey man, the boss of the Golconda House, where 
me and Simeon had been stayin’; the feller we’d 
spoke to that very mornin’. 

“ ‘ Good evenin’, sor,’ says he, in a voice as 
deep as a well. ‘ I’m glad to find you to home, 
sor. There’s a telegram come for you at my 
place,’ he says, ‘ and as your friend lift the ad- 
dress when he come for the baggage this after- 
noon, I brought it along to yez. I was cornin’ 
this way, so ’twas no trouble.’ 

“ ‘ That’s real kind of you,’ I says. ‘ Step in- 
side a minute, won’t you ? ’ 

“ So in he comes, and stands, holdin’ his shiny 
beaver in his hand, while I tore open the telegram 
envelope. ’Twas a message from a feller I knew 
with the Clyde Line of steamboats. He had 
found out, somehow, that we was in New York, 
and the telegram was an order for us to come and 
make him a visit. 

“ ‘ I hope it’s not bad news, sor,’ says the big 
chap. 

“ ‘ No, no,’ says I. ‘ Not a bit of it, Mr. 
Dempsey. Come on in and have a cigar, won’t 
you ? ’ 

“ ‘ Thank you, sor,’ says he. ‘ I’m glad it’s 
not the bad news. Sure, I ax you and your friend’s 
pardon for bein’ so short to yez this mornin’, but 
I’m in that throuble lately that me timper is all 
but gone.’ 

“ ‘ That so? ’ says I. ‘ Trouble’s thick in this 
240 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


world, ain’t it? Me and Mr. Phinney got a case 
of trouble on our hands now, Mr. Dempsey, 
and ’ 

“ ‘ Excuse me, sor,’ he says. ‘ My name’s not 
Dempsey. I suppose you seen the sign with me 
partner’s name on it. I only bought into the busi- 
ness a while ago, and the new sign’s not ready yit. 
Me name is O’Shaughnessy, sor.’ 

“ ‘ What? ’ says I. And then: ‘ JVhat?'* 

“ ^ O’Shaughnessy. Michael O’Shaughnessy. 
I ’ 

“ * Hold on ! ’ I sung out. ‘ For the land 
sakes, hold on I JVhafs your name ? ’ 

“ He bristled up like a cat. 

“ ‘ Michael O’Shaughnessy,’ he roars, like the 
bull of Bashan. ‘ D’yez find any fault with it? 
’Twas me father’s before me — Michael Patrick 
O’Shaughnessy, of County Sligo. I’ll have yez 
know — Whaf s that?' 

“ ’Twas a scream from the libr’ry. Next thing 
I knew, Margaret, the nurse girl, was standin’ in 
the hall, white as a Sunday shirt, and swingin’ back 
and forth like a wild-carrot stalk in a gale. 

“ ‘ Mike I ’ says she, kind of low and faint. 
‘ Mary be good to us I Mike! ’ 

“ And the big chap dropped his tall hat on 
the floor and turned as white as she was. 

“ ‘ Maggie! ’ he hollers. And then they closed 
in on one another. 

“ Sim and the priest and Archie had followed 
241 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


the girl into the hall. Me and Phinney was too 
flabbergasted to do anything, but big Father Mc- 
Grath was cool as an ice box. When Archibald, 
like the little imp he was, sets up a whoop and 
dives for them two, the priest grabs him by the 
rope of the blanket nighty and swings him into 
the libr’ry, and shuts the door on him. 

“ ‘ And now,’ says he, takin’ Sim and me by 
the arms and leadin’ us to the parlor, ‘ we’ll just 
step in here and wait a bit.’ 

“ We waited, maybe, ten minutes. Archibald, 
dear, shut up in the libr’ry, was howlin’ blue mur- 
der, but nobody paid any attention to him. Then 
there was a knock on the door between us and the 
hall, and Father McGrath opened it. There they 
was, the two of ’em — Mike and Maggie — lookin’ 
red and foolish — but happy, don’t talk ! 

“ ‘ You see, sor,’ says the O’Shaughnessy man 
to me, ‘ ’twas the five-thousand-dollar prize that 
done it. Pd been workin’ at me trade, sor — 
lamin’ to tind bar it was — and Pd just got a new 
job where the pay was pretty good, and Pd sint 
over for Maggie, and was plannin’ for the little 
flat we was to have, and the like of that, when I 
drew that prize. And the joy of it was like hand- 
in’ me a jolt on the jaw. It put me out for two 
weeks, sor, and when I come to I was in Balti- 
more, where Pd gone to collect the money; and 
two thousand of the five was gone, and I knew me 
job in New York was gone, and I was that shamed 
242 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


and sick it took me three days more to make up 
me mind to come to me Cousin Tim’s, where I 
knew Maggie’d be waitin’ for me. And when I 
did come back she was gone, too.’ 

“ ‘ And then,’ says Father McGrath, sharp, 
‘ I suppose you went on another spree, and spent 
the rest of the money.’ 

“ ‘ I did not, sor — axin’ your pardon for con- 
tradictin’ your riverence. I signed the pledge, and 
I’ll keep it, with Maggie to help me. I put me 
three thousand into a partnership with me friend 
Dempsey, who was runnin’ the Golconda House 
— ’tis over on the East Side, with a fine bar trade 
— and I’m doin’ well, barrin’ that I’ve been crazy 
for this poor girl, and advertisin’ and ’ 

“ ‘ And look at the clothes of him ! ’ sings out 
Margaret, reverentlike. ‘ And is that your tall 
hat, Mike? To think of you with a tall hat! 
Sure it’s a proud girl I am this day. Saints for- 
give me. I’ve forgot Archie 1 ’ 

And afore we could stop her she’d run into 
the hall and unfastened the libr’ry door. It took 
her some time to smooth down the young one’s 
sensitive feelin’s, and while she was gone, me and 
Simeon told the O’Shaughnessy man a little of 
what his girl had had to put up with along of 
Cousin Harriet and Archibald. He was mad. 

“‘Is that the little blackguard?’ he asks, 
pointin’ to Archibald, who had arrived by now. 

“ ‘ That’s the one,’ says I. 

243 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Archibald looked up at him and grinned 
sassy as ever. 

“ ‘ Father McGrath,’ asks O’Shaughnessy, de- 
termined like, ‘ can you marry us this night? * 

“ ‘ I can,’ says the Father. 

** * And will yez ? ’ 

“ * I will, with pleasure.’ 

“ ‘ Maggie,’ says Mike, ‘ get your hat and 
jacket on and come with the Father and me this 
minute. These gintlemen here will explain to 
your lady when she comes back. But youll 
come back no more. We’ll send for your trunk 
to-morrer.’ 

“ Even then the girl hesitated. She’d been so 
used to bein’ a slave that I suppose she couldn’t 
realize she was free at last. 

“ ‘ But, Mike, dear,’ she says. ‘ I — oh, your 
lovely hat! Put it down, Archie, darlin’. Put it 
down 1 ’ 

“ Archibald had been doin’ a little cruisin’ on 
his own hook, and he’d dug up Mike’s shiny beaver 
where it had been dropped in the hall. Now he 
was dancin’ round with it, bangin’ it on the top as 
if it was a drum. 

“ ‘ Put it down, please! ’ pleads Margaret. 
’Twas plain that that plug was a crown of glory 
to her. 

“ ‘ Drop it, you little thafe! ’ yells O’Shaugh- 
nessy, makin’ a dive for the boy. 

“ ‘ I won’t 1 ’ screams Archibald, and starts to 

244 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


run. He tripped over the corner of a mat, and fell 
flat. The plug hat was underneath him, and it fell 
flat, too. 

“ ‘ Oh I oh ! oh ! ’ wails Margaret, wringin’ her 
hands. ‘ Your beautiful hat, Mike! ’ 

“ Mike’s face was like a sunset. 

‘ Your reverence,’ says he, ‘ tell me this; don’t 
the wife promise to “ obey ” in the marriage serv- 
ice? ’ 

‘‘ ‘ She does,’ says Father McGrath. 

“ ‘ D’ye hear that, you that’s to be Margaret 
O’Shaughnessy ? You do? Well, then, as your 
husband that’s to be in tin minutes, I order you to 
give that small divil what’s cornin’ to him. D’ye 
hear me? Will yez obey me, or will yez not? ’ 

“ She didn’t know what to do. You could see 
she wanted to — her fingers was itchin’ to do it, 
but — And then Archie held up the ruins of the 
hat and commenced to laugh. 

“ That settled it. Next minute he was across 
her knee and gettin’ what he’d been sufferin’ for 
ever sence he was born; and gettin’ all the back 
numbers along with it, too. 

“ And in the midst of the performance Sim 
Phinney leans over to me with the most heavenly, 
resigned expression on his face, and says he : 

“ ‘ It ain’t our fault, Hiram. We promised not 
to interfere.’ ” 

“ What did Sam Holden and his wife say when 
they got home?” asked Captain Sol, when the 
245 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


triumphant whoops over Archibald’s righteous 
chastisement had subsided. 

“ We didn’t give him much of a chance to say 
anything. I laid for him in the hall when he ar- 
rived and told him that Phinney had got a telegram 
and must leave immediate. He wanted to know 
why, and a whole lot more, but I told him we’d 
write it. Neither Sim nor me cared to face Cousin 
Harriet after her darlin’ son had spun his yarn. 
Ha ! ha ! I’d like to have seen her face — from a 
safe distance.” 

Captain Bailey Stitt cleared his throat. “ Re- 
ferrin’ to them automobiles,” he said, “ I ” 

“ Say, Sol,” interrupted Wingate, “ did I 
ever tell you of Cap’n Jonadab’s and my gettin’ 
took up by the police when we was in New 
York?” 

“ No,” replied the astounded depot master. 

Took up by the police? ” 

“ Um — hm. Surprises you, don’t it? Well, 
that whole trip was a surprise to me. 

“ When Laban Thorp set out to thrash his son 
and the boy licked him instead, they found the old 
man settin’ in the barnyard, holdin’ on to his nose 
and grinnin’ for pure joy. 

“ ‘ Hurt? ’ says he. ‘ Why, some. But think 
of it ! Only think of it ! I didn’t believe Bill had 
it in him.’ 

“ Well, that’s the way I felt when Cap’n Jona- 
dab sprung the New York plan on to me. I was 
246 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 

pretty nigh as much surprised as Labe. The idea 
of a man with a chronic case of lockjaw of the 
pocketbook, same as Jonadab had worried along 
under ever sence I knew him, suddenly breakin* 
loose with a notion to go to New York on a pleas- 
ure cruise ! ’Twas too many for me. I set and 
looked at him. 

“ ‘ Oh, I mean it, Barzilla,’ he says. ‘ I ain’t 
been to New York sence I was mate on the Emma 
Snow^ and that was ’way back in the eighties. That 
is, to stop I ain’t. That time we went through on 
the way to Peter T.’s weddin’ don’t count, ’cause 
we only went in the front door and out the back, 
like Squealer Wixon went through high school. 
Let’s you and me go and stay two or three days and 
have a real high old time,’ says he. 

“ I fetched a long breath. ‘ Jonadab,’ I says, 
‘don’t scare a feller this way; I’ve got a weak 
heart. If you’re goin’ to start in and be divilish in 
your old age, why, do it kind of gradual. Let’s 
go over to the billiard room and have a bottle of 
sass’parilla and a five-cent cigar, just to break the 
ice.’ 

“ But that only made him mad. 

“ ‘ You talk like a fish,’ he says. ‘ I mean it. 
Why can’t we go ? It’s September, the Old Home 
House is shut up for the season, you and me’s done 
well — fur’s profits are concerned — and we ought to 
have a change, anyway. We’ve got to stay here in 
Orham all winter.’ 


247 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ Have you figgered out how much it’s goin’ 
to cost? ’ I asked him. 

“ Yes, he had. ‘ It won’t be so awful expen- 
sive,’ he says. ‘ I’ve got some stock in the rail- 
road and that’ll give me a pass fur’s Fall River. 
And we can take a lunch to eat on the boat. And 
a stateroom’s a dollar; that’s fifty cents apiece. 
And my daughter’s goin’ to Denboro on a visit next 
week, so I’d have to pay board if I stayed to home. 
Come on, Barzilla! don’t be so tight with your 
money.’ 

“ So I said I’d go, though I didn’t have any 
pass, nor no daughter to feed me free gratis for 
nothin’ when I got back. And when we started, 
on the followin’ Monday, nothin’ would do but we 
must be at the depot at two o’clock so’s not to miss 
the train, which left at quarter past three. 

“ I didn’t sleep much that night on the boat. 
For one thing, our stateroom was a nice lively 
one, alongside of the paddle box and just under the 
fog whistle; and for another, the supper that Jona- 
dab had brought, bein’ mainly doughnuts and 
cheese, wa’n’t the best cargo to take to bed with 
you. But'it didn’t make much diff’rence, ’cause we 
turned out at four, so’s to see the scenery and git 
our money’s worth. What was left of the dough- 
nuts and cheese we had for breakfast. 

“We made the dock on time, and the next 
thing was to pick out a hotel. I was for cruisin’ 
along some of the main streets until we hove in 
248 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


sight of a place that looked sociable and not too 
expensive. But no; Jonadab had it all settled for 
me. We was goin’ to the ‘ Wayfarer’s Inn,’ a 
boardin’ house where he’d put up once when he 
was mate of the Emma Snow, He said ’twas a 
fine place and you could git as g^od ham and eggs 
there as a body’d want to eat. 

So we set sail for the ‘ Wayfarer’s,’ and of all 
the times gittin’ to a place — don’t talk ! We asked 
no less than nine policemen and one hundred and 
two other folks, and it cost us thirty cents in car 
fares, which pretty nigh broke Jonadab’s heart. 
However, we found it, finally, ’way off amongst a 
nest of brick houses and peddler carts and children, 
and it wa’n’t the ‘ Wayfarer’s Inn ’ no more, but 
was down in the shippin’ list as the ‘ Golconda 
House.’ Jonadab said the neighborhood had 
changed some sence he was there, but he guessed 
we’d better chance it, ’cause the board was cheap. 

“ We had a nine-by-ten room up aloft some- 
wheres, and there we set down on the edge of the 
bed and a chair to take account of stock, as you 
might say. 

“ ‘ Now, I tell you, Jonadab,’ says I ; ‘ we don’t 
want to waste no time, and we’ve got the day afore 
us. What do you say if we cruise along the water 
front for a spell? There’s ha’f a dozen Orham 
folks aboard diff’rent steamers that hail from this 
port, and ’twouldn’t be no more’n neighborly to 
call on ’em. There’s Silas Baker’s boy, Asa — he’s 
17 249 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

with the Savannah Line and he’d be mighty-glad to 
see us. And there’s ’ 

“ But Jonadab held up his hand. He’d been 
mysterious as a baker’s mince pie ever sence we 
started, hintin’ at somethin’ he’d got to do when 
we’d got to New York. And now he out with it. 

“ ‘ Barzilla,’ he says, ‘ I ain’t sayin’ but what 
I’d like to go to the wharves with you, first rate. 
And we will go, too. But afore we do anything 
else I’ve got an errand that must be attended to. 
’Twas give to me by a dyin’ man,’ he says, ‘ and 
I promised him I’d do it. So that comes first 
of all.’ 

“ He got his wallet out of his inside vest pocket, 
wLere it had been pinned in tight to keep it safe 
from robbers, unwound a foot or so of leather 
strap, and dug up a yeller piece of paper that 
looked old enough to be Methusalem’s will, pretty 
nigh. 

“ ‘ Do you remember Patrick Kelly in Or- 
ham? ’ he asks. 

“‘Who?’ says I. ‘Pat Kelly, the Irishman, 
that lived in the little old shack back of your barn ? 
Course I do. But he’s been dead for I don’t know 
how long.’ 

“ ‘ I know he has. Do you remember his boy 
Jim that run away from home ? ’ 

“ ‘ Let’s see,’ I says. ‘ Seems to me I do. 
Freckled, red-headed rooster, wa’n’t he? And of 

all the imps of darkness that ever ’ 

250 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


‘ S-sh-sh ! ’ he interrupted solemn. ‘ Don’t 
say that now, Barzilla. Sounds kind of irreverent. 
Well, me and old Pat was pretty friendly, in a way, 
though he did owe me rent. When he was sick 
with the pleurisy he sends for me and he says, 
“ Cap’n Wixon,” says he, “ you’re pretty close with 
the money,” he says — he was kind of out of his 
head at the time and liable to say foolish things- — 
“ you’re pretty close,” he says, “ but you’re a man 
of your word. My boy Jimmie, that run away, 
was the apple of my eye.” ’ 

“ ‘ That’s what he said about his girl Maggie 
that was took up for stealin’ Mrs. Elkanah Hig- 
gins’s spoons,’ I says. ‘ He had a healthy crop of 
apples in his orchard.’ 

“ ‘ S-sh-h ! Don^t talk so I I feel as if the 
old man’s spirit was with us this minute. “ He’s 
the apple of my eye,” he says, “ and he run away, 
after me latherin’ the life out of him with a wagon 
spoke. ’Twas all for his good, but he didn’t under- 
stand, bein’ but a child. And now I’ve heard,” he 
says, “ that he’s workin’ at ii6 East Blank Street 
in the city of New York. Cap’n Wixon, you’re a 
man of money and a travelin’ man,” he says (I was 
fishin’ in them days). “When you go to New 
York,” he says, “ I want you to promise me to go 
to the address on this paper and hunt up Jimmie. 
Tell him I forgive him for lickin’ him,” he says, 
“ and die happy. Will you promise me that, 
Cap’n, on your word as a gentleman?” And I 
251 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


promised him. And he died in less than ten months 
afterwards, poor thing.’ 

“ ‘ But that was sixteen — eighteen — nineteen 
years ago,’ says I. ‘ And the boy run away three 
years afore that. You’ve been to New York in the 
past nineteen years, once anyhow.’ 

“ ‘ I know it. But I forgot. I’m ashamed of 
it, but I forgot. And when I was goin’ through 
the things up attic at my daughter’s last Friday, 
seein’ what I could find for the rummage sale at 
the church, I come across my old writin’ desk, and 
in it was this very piece of paper with the address 
on it just as I wrote it down. And me startin’ for 
New York in three days ! Barzilla, I swan to man, 
I believe something sent me to that attic.’ 

“ I knew what sent him there and so did the 
church folks, judgin’ by their remarks when the 
contribution came in. But I was too much set back 
by the whole crazy business to say anything about 
that. 

“ ‘ Look here, Jonadab Wixon,’ I sings out, 
‘ do you mean to tell me that we’ve got to put in 
the whole forenoon ransackin’ New York to find a 
boy that run off twenty-two years ago ? ’ 

“ ‘ It won’t take the forenoon,’ he says. ‘ I’ve 
got the number, ain’t I ? * 

‘ Yes, you’ve got the number where he was. 
If you want to know where I think he’s likely to be 
now, I’d try the jail.’ 

“ But he said I was unfeelin’ and disobligin’ 
252 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


and lots more, so, to cut the argument short, I 
agreed to go. And off we put to hunt up 1 16 East 
Blank Street. And when we located it, after a good 
hour of askin’ questions, and payin’ car fares and 
wearin’ out shoe leather, ’twas a Chinese laundry. 

“ ‘ Well,’ I says, sarcastic, ‘ here we be. Which 
one of the heathen do you think is Jimmie? If he 
had an inch or so more of upper lip. I’d gamble on 
that critter with the pink nighty and the baskets on 
his feet. He has a kind of familiar chicken-stealin’ 
look in his eye. Oh, come down on the wharves, 
Jonadab, and be sensible.’ 

“ Would you believe it, he wa’n’t satisfied. We 
must go into the wash shop and ask the Chinamen 
if they knew Jimmie Kelly. So we went in and the 
powwow begun. 

“ ’Twas a mighty unsatisfyin’ interview. Jona- 
dab’s idea of talkin’ to furriners is to yell at ’em as 
if they was stone deef. If they don’t understand 
what you say, yell louder. So between his yells 
and the heathen’s jabber and grunts the hullabaloo 
was worse than a cat in a hen yard. Folks begun 
to stop outside the door and listen and grin. 

“ ‘ What did he say? ’ asks the Cap’n, turnin’ 
to me. 

‘‘ ‘ I don’t know,’ says I, ‘ but I cal’late he’s 
gettin’ ready to send a note up to the crazy asylum. 
Come on out of here afore I go loony myself.’ 

“ So he done it, finally, cross as all get out, and 
swearin’ that all Chinese was no good and oughtn’t 

253 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


to be allowed in this country. But he wouldn't 
give up, not yet. He must scare up some of the 
neighbors and ask them. The fifth man that we 
asked was an old chap who remembered that there 
used to be a liquor saloon once where the laundry 
was now. But he didn’t know who run it or what 
had become of him. 

“ ‘ Never mind,’ I says. ‘ You’re as warm as 
you’re likely to be this trip. A rum shop is just 
about the place I’d expect that Kelly boy would be 
in. And, if he’s like the rest of his relations on his 
dad’s side, he drank himself to death years ago. 
Now will you head for the Savannah Line ? ’ 

“ Not much, he wouldn’t. He had another no- 
tion. We’d look in the directory. That seemed to 
have a glimmer of sense somewheres in its neigh- 
borhood, so we found an apothecary store and the 
clerk handed us out a book once again as big as a 
church Bible. 

“ ‘ Kelly,’ says Jonadab. ‘ Yes, here ’tis. Now, 
“ James Kelly.” Land of Love I Barzilla, look 
here.’ 

“ I looked, and there wa’n’t no less than a 
dozen pages of James Kellys beginning with fifty 
James A.’s and endin’ with four James Z.’s. The 
Y in ‘ New York ’ ought to be a C, judgin’ by that 
directory. 

“ ‘ Godfrey mighty! ’ I says. ‘ This ain’t no 
forenoon’s job, Jonadab. If you’re goin’ through 
that list you'll have to spend the rest of your life 

254 


IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 


here. Only, unless you want to be lonesome, you’ll 
have to change your name to Kelly.’ 

“ ‘ If I’d only got his middle letter,’ says he, 
mournful, ‘ ’twould have been easier. He had four 
middle names, if I remember right — the old man 
was great on names — and ’twas too much trouble 
to write ’em all down. Well, I’ve done my duty, 
anyhow. We’ll go and call on Ase Baker.’ 

“ But ’twas after eleven o’clock then, and the 
doughnuts and cheese I had for breakfast was be- 
ginnin’ to feel as if they wanted company. So we 
decided to go back to the Golconda and have some 
dinner first. 

“We had ham and eggs for dinner, some that 
was left over from the last time Jonadab stopped 
there, I cal’late. Lucky there was hot bread and 
coffee on the bill or we’d never got a square meal. 
Then we went up to our room and the Cap’n laid 
down on the bed. He was beat out, he said, and 
wanted to rest up a spell afore haulin’ anchor for 
another cruise.” 


CHAPTER XII 


A VISION SENT 


w 


HERE’S the arrestin’ come In?” de- 
manded Stitt. 


^ “ Comes quick now, Bailey. Plenty 

quick enough for me and Jonadab, I tell you that! 
After we got to our room the Cap’n went to sleep 
pretty soon and I set in the one chair, readin’ the 
newspaper and wishin’ I hadn’t ate so many of the 
warm bricks that the Golconda folks hoped was 
biscuit. They made me feel like a schooner goin’ 
home in ballast. I guess I was drowsin’ off myself, 
but there comes a most unearthly yell from the 
bed and I jumped ha’f out of the chair. There 
was Jonadab settin’ up and lookin’ wild. 

“ ‘ What in the world? ’ says I. 

“ ‘ Oh 1 Ugh I My soul ! ’ says he. 

“ ‘ Your soul, hey? ’ says I. ‘ Is that all? I 
thought mebbe you’d lost a quarter.’ 

“ ‘ Barzilla,’ he says, cornin’ to and starin’ at 
me solemn, ‘ Barzilla, I’ve had a dream — a won- 
derful dream.’ 

“ ‘ Well,’ I says, ‘ I ain’t surprised. A feller 


256 


A VISION SENT 


that h’isted in as much fried dough as you did 
ought to expect ’ 

‘‘ ‘ But I tell you ’twas a wonderful dream,’ 
he says. ‘ I dreamed I was on Blank Street, where 
we was this mornin’, and Patrick Kelly comes to 
me and p’ints his finger right in my face. I see 
him as plain as I see you now. And he says to me 
— he said it over and over, two or three times — 
“ Seventeen,” says he, “ Seventeen.” Now what 
do you think of that? ’ 

“ ‘ Humph I ’ I says. ‘ I ain’t surprised. I 
think ’twas just seventeen of them biscuits that you 
got away with. Wonder to me you didn’t see some- 
body worse’n old Pat.’ 

“ But he was past jokin’. You never see a 
man so shook up by the nightmare as he was by 
that one. He kept goin’ over it and tellin’ how nat- 
ural old Kelly looked and how many times he said 
* Seventeen ’ to him. 

“‘Now what did he mean by it?’ he says. 
‘ Don’t tell me that was a common dream, ’cause 
’twa’n’t. No, sir, ’twas a vision sent to me, and I 
know it. But what did he mean? ’ 

“ ‘ I think he meant you was seventeen kinds 
of an idiot,’ I snorts, disgusted. ‘ Get up off that 
bed and stop wavin’ your arms, will you? He 
didn’t mean for you to turn yourself into a wind- 
mill, that’s sartin sure.’ 

“ Then he hits his knee a slap that sounds like 
a window blind blowin’ to. ‘ I’ve got it ! ’ he sings 

257 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


out ‘ He meant for me to go to number seventeen 
on that street. That’s what he meant.’ 

“ I laughed and made fun of him, but I might 
as well have saved my breath. He was sure Pat 
Kelly’s ghost had come hikin’ back from the here- 
after to tell him to go to 17 Blank Street and find 
his boy. ‘ Else why was he on Blank Street ? ’ he 
says. ‘ You tell me that.’ 

“ I couldn’t tell him. It’s enough for me to 
figger out what makes live folks act the way they 
do, let alone dead ones. And Cap’n Jonadab was a 
Spiritu’list on his mother’s side. It ended by my 
agreein’ to give the Jimmie chase one more try. 

“ ‘ But it’s got to be the last,’ I says. ‘ When 
you get to number seventeen don’t you say you 
think the old man meant to say “ seventy ” and 
stuttered.’ 

“ Number 17 Blank Street was a little combi- 
nation fruit and paper store run by an Eyetalian 
with curly hair and the complexion of a molasses 
cooky. His talk sounded as if it had been run 
through a meat chopper. All he could say was, 

‘ Nica grape, genta’men ? On’y fifteen cent a 
pound. Nica grape? Nica apple? Nica pear? 
Nica ploom? ’ 

“‘Kelly?’ says Jonadab, hollerin’ as usual. 

‘ Kelly I d’ye understand ? K-E-L-Kel L-Y-ly, Kel- 
ly. You know, Kelly! We want to find him.’ 

“ And just then up steps a feller about six feet 
high and three foot through. He was dressed in 
258 


A VISION SENT 


checkerboard clothes, some gone to seed, and you 
could hardly see the blue tie he had on for the glass 
diamond in it. Oh, he was a little wilted now — 
for the lack of water, I judge — but ’twas plain that 
he’d been a sunflower in his time. He’d just 
come out of a liquor store next door to the fruit 
shop and was wipin’ his mouth with the back of his 
hand. 

“ ‘ What’s this I hear? ’ says he, fetchin’ Jona- 
dab a welt on the back like a mast goin’ by the 
board. ‘ Is it me friend Kelly you’re lookin’ for? ’ 

“ I was just goin’ to tell him no, not likin’ his 
looks, but Jonadab cut in ahead of me, out of 
breath from the earthquake the feller had landed 
him, but excited as could be. 

“‘Yes, yes!’ says he. ‘It’s Mr. Kelly we 
want. Do you know him ? ’ 

“ ‘ Do I know him? Why, me bucko, ’tis me 
old college chum he is. Come on with me and we’ll 
give him the glad hand.’ 

“ He grabs Jonadab by the arm and starts 
along the sidewalk, steerin’ a toler’ble crooked 
course, but gainin’ steady by jerks. 

“ ‘ I was on me way to Kelly’s place now,’ says 
he. ‘ And here it is. Sure didn’t I bate the book- 
ies blind on Rosebud but yesterday — or was it the 
day before ? I don’t know, but come on, me lads, 
and we’ll do him again.’ 

“ He turned in at a little narrer entry-like, and 
went stumblin’ up a flight of dirty stairs. I caught 
259 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

hold of Jonadab’s coat tails and pulled him 
back. 

“ ‘ Where you goin’, you crazy loon? ’ I whis- 
pered. ‘ Can’t you see he’s three sheets in the 
wind ? And you haven’t told him what Kelly you 
want, nor nothin’.’ 

“ But I might as well have hollered at a stone 
wall. ‘ I don’t care if he’s as fur gone in liquor 
as Belshazzer’s goat, ’sputters the Cap’n, all worked 
up. ‘ He’s takin’ us to a Kelly, ain’t he ? And is 
it likely there’ d be another one within three doors 
of the number I dreamed about ? Didn’t I tell you 
that dream was a vision sent? Don’t lay to now^ 
Barzilla, for the land sakes! It’s Providence 
a-workin’.’ 

“ ’Cording to my notion the sunflower looked 
more like an agent from t’other end of the line than 
one from Providence, but just then he commenced 
to yell for us and upstairs we went, Jonadab first. 

“ ‘ Whisht ! ’ says the checkerboard, holdin’ on 
to Jonadab’s collar and swingin’ back and forth. 
^ Before we proceed to blow in on me friend Kelly, 
let us come to an understandin’ concernin’ and 
touchin’ on — and — and — I don’t know. But b’ys,’ 
says he, solemn and confidential, ‘ are you on the 
square? Are yez dead game sports, hey?’ 

“ ‘ Yes, yes! ’ says Jonadab. ‘ Course we be. 
Mr. Kelly and us are old friends. We’ve come I 
don’t know how fur on purpose to see him. Now 
where’s ’ 


260 


A VISION SENT 


“ ‘ Say no more,’ hollers the feller. ‘ Say no 
more. Come on with yez.’ And he marches down 
the dark hall to a door with a ‘ To let ’ sign on it 
and fetches it a bang with his fist. It opens a little 
ways and a face shows in the crack. 

“ ‘ Hello, Frank! ’ hails the sunflower, cheer- 
ful. ‘ Will you take that ugly mug of yours out of 
the gate and lave me friends in? ’ 

“‘What’s the matter wid you, Mike?’ asks 
the chap at the door. ‘ Yer can’t bring them two 
yaps in here and you know it. Gwan out of this.’ 

“ He tried to shut the door, but the checker- 
board had his foot between it and the jamb. You 
might as well have tried to shove in the broadside 
of an ocean liner as to push against that foot. 

“ ‘ These gents are friends of mine,’ says he. 
‘ Frank, I’ll do yez the honor of an introduction to 
Gin’ral Grant and Dan’l O’Connell. Open that 
door and compose your face before I’m obliged to 
break both of ’em.’ 

“ ‘ But I tell you, Mike, I can’t,’ says the door 
man, lookin’ scared. ‘ The boss is out, and 
you know ’ 

“ ‘ /F/// you open that door?’ roars the big 
chap. And with that he hove his shoulder against 
the panels and jammed the door open by main 
force, all but flattenin’ the other feller behind it. 
‘ Walk in, Gin’ral,’ he says to Jonadab, and in we 
went, me wonderin’ what was cornin’ next, and not 
darin’ to guess 


261 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ There was a kind of partitioned off hallway 
inside, with another door in the partition. We 
opened that, and there was a good-sized room, 
filled with men, smokin’ and standin’ around. A 
high board fence was acrost one end of the room, 
and from behind it comes a jinglin’ of telephone 
bells and the sounds of talk. The floor was cov- 
ered with torn papers, the window blinds was shut, 
the gas was burnin’ blue, and, between it and the 
f,moke, the smells was as various as them in a fish 
glue factory. On the fence was a couple of black- 
boards with ‘ Belmont ’ and ‘ Brighton ’ and such- 
like names in chalk wrote on ’em, and beneath that 
a whole mess in writin’ and figures like, ‘ Red Tail 
4 — Wt — io8 — Jock Smith — 5 — i,’ ‘ Sourcrout 5 
— Wt — 99 — Jock Jones — 20 — 5,’ and similar rub- 
bish. And the gang — a mighty mixed lot — ^was 
scribblin’ in little books and watchin’ each other as 
if they was afraid of havin’ their pockets picked; 
though, to look at ’em, you’d have guessed the big- 
gest part had nothin’ in their pockets but holes. 

“ The six-foot checkerboard — ^who, it turned 
out, answered to the hail of ‘ Mike ’ — seemed to be 
right at home with the gang. He called most of 
’em by their first names and went sasshayin’ around, 
weltin’ ’em on the back and tellin’ ’em how he’d 
‘ put crimps in the bookies rolls t’other day,’ and a 
lot more stuff that they seemed to understand, but 
was hog Greek to me and Jonadab. He’d forgot 
us altogether which was a mercy the way I looked 
262 


A VISION SENT 


at it, and I steered the Cap’n over into a comer and 
we come to anchor on a couple of rickety chairs. 

“ ‘ What — why — what kind of a place is this, 
Barzilla?’ whispers Jonadab, scared. 

“ * Sh-h-h ! ’ says I. ‘ Land knows. Just set 
quiet and hang on to your watch.’ 

“ ‘ But — ^but I want to find Kelly,’ says he. 

“ ‘ I’d give somethin’ to find a back door,’ says 
I. * Ain’t this a collection of dock rats though ! If 
this is a part of your dream, Jonadab, I wish you’d 
turn over and wake up. Oh land I here’s one mur- 
derer headin’ this way. Keep your change in your 
fist and keep the fist shut.’ 

“ A more’n average rusty peep, with a rubber 
collar on and no necktie, comes slinkin’ over to us. 
He had a smile like a crack in a plate. 

“ * Say, gents,’ he says, ‘ have you made your 
bets yet ? I’ve got a dead straight line on the handi- 
cap,’ says he, ‘ and I’ll put you next for a one spot. 
It’s a sure t’ing at fifteen to three. What do you 
say ? ’ 

“ I didn’t say nuthin’ ; but that fool dream was 
rattlin’ round in Jonadab’s skull like a bean in a 
blowgun, and he sees a chance for a shot. 

“ ‘ See here, mister,’ he says. ‘ Can you tell 
me where to locate Mr. Kelly? ’ 

“‘Who — Pete?’ says the feller. ‘Oh, he 
ain’t in just now. But about that handicap. I like 
the looks of youse and I’ll let youse in for a dollar. 
Or, seein’ it’s you, we’ll say a half. Only fifty 
263 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

cents. I wouldn’t do better for my own old man,’ 
he says. 

“ While the Cap’n was tryin’ to unravel one 
end of this gibberish I spoke up prompt. 

‘‘‘Say,’ says I, ‘tell me this, will you? Is 
the Kelly who owns this — this palace, named Jim- 
mie — James, I mean? ’ 

“ ‘ Naw,’ says he. ‘ Sure he ain’t. It’s Pete 
Kelly, of course — Silver Pete. But what are you 
givin’ us? Are you bettin’ on the race, or ain’t 
you ? ’ 

“ Well, Jonadab understood that. He bristled 
up like a brindled cat. If there’s any one thing 
the Cap’n is down on, it’s gamblin’ and such — al- 
ways exceptin’ when he knows he’s won already. 
You’ve seen that kind, maybe. 

“ ‘ Young feller,’ he says, perkish, ‘ I want you 
to know that me and my friend ain’t the bettin’ 
kind. What sort of a hole is this, anyway? ’ 

“ The rubber collared critter backed off, lookin’ 
worried. He goes acrost the room, and I see him 
talkin’ to two or three other thieves as tough as 
himself. And they commenced to stare at us and 
scowl. 

“ ‘ Come on,’ I whispered to Jonadab. ‘ Let’s 
get out of this place while we can. There ain’t no 
Jimmie Kelly here, or if there is you don’t want to 
find him.’ 

“ He was as wdllin’ to make tracks as I was, 
by this time, and we headed for the door in the 
264 


A VISION SENT 


partition. But Rubber Collar and some of the 
others got acrost our bows. 

“ ‘ Cut it out,’ says one of ’em. ‘ You can’t get 
away so easy. HI, Frank ! Frank ! Who let these 
turnip pullers In here, anyhow ? Who are they ? * 

“ The chap who was tendin’ door comes out 
of his coop. ‘ You’ve got me,’ he says. ‘ They 
come in with Big Mike, and he was loaded and 
scrappy and jammed ’em through. Said they was 
pals of his. Where Is he? ’ 

“ There was a hunt for Mike, and, when they 
got his bearin’s, there he was keeled over on a 
bench, breathin’ like an escape valve. And an ad- 
miral’s salute wouldn’t have woke him up. The 
whole crew was round us by this time, some ugly, 
and the rest laffin’ and carryin’ on. 

“ ‘ It’s the Barkwurst gang,’ says one. 

“ ‘ It’s old Bark himself,’ says another. ‘ Look 
at them lace curtains.’ And he points to Jonadab’s 
whiskers. 

“ ‘ This one’s Jacobs In disguise,’ sings out 
somebody else. ‘ You can tell him by the Rube 
get-up. Haw ! haw 1 ’ 

“ ‘ Soak ’em ! Do ’em up ! Don’t let ’em out ! ’ 
hollers a ha’f dozen more. 

“ Jonadab was game; I’ll say that for him. 
And I hadn’t been second mate In my time for 
nothin’. 

“ ‘ Take your hands off me! ’ yells the Cap’n. 

‘ I come in here to find a man I’m lookin’ for, 
18 265 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


James Kelly it was, and — You would, would you ! 
Stand by, Barzilla ! ’ ♦ 

“ I stood by. Rubber Collar got one from me 
that made him remember home and mother, Pll 
bet. Anyhow, my knuckles ached for two days 
afterwards. And Jonadab was just as busy. But 
I cal’late we’d have been ready for the oven in an- 
other five minutes if the door hadn’t bu’st open with 
a bang, and a loud dressed chap, with the sweat 
pourin’ down his face, come tearin’ in. 

“ ‘ Beat it, fellers ! ’ he yells. * The place is 
goin’ to be pinched. I’ve just had the tip, and 
they’re right on top of me.’ 

“ Then there was times. Everybody was shout- 
in’ and swearin’ and failin’ over each other to get 
out. I was kind of lost in the shuffle, and the next 
thing I remember for sartin is settin’ up on Rubber 
Collar’s stomach and lookin’ foggy at the door, 
where the loud dressed man was wrestlin’ with a 
policeman. And there was police at the windows 
and all around. 

“ Well, don’t talk! I got up, resurrects Jona- 
dab from under a heap of gamblers and furniture, 
and makes for harbor in our old corner. The 
police was mighty busy, especially a fat, round- 
faced, red-mustached man, with gold bands on his 
cap and arms, that the rest called ‘ Cap’n.’ Him 
and the loud dressed chap who’d give the alarm 
was talkin’ earnest close to us. 

I can’t help it, Pete,’ says the police cap’n, 
266 


u t 


A VISION SENT 


‘^Twas me or the Vice Suppression crowd. They’ve 
been on to you for two weeks back. I only just 
got in ahead of ’em as it was. No, you’ll have to 
go along with the rest and take your chances. 
Quiet now, everybody, or you’ll get it harder,’ he 
roars, givin’ orders like the skipper of a passenger 
boat. ‘ Stand in line and wait your turns for the 
wagon.’ 

“ Jonadab grabbed me by the wrist. He was 
pale and shakin’ all over. 

“‘Oh, Lordy!’ says he, ‘we’re took up. 
Will we have to go to jail, do you think? ’ 

“ ‘ I don’t know,’ I says, disgusted. ‘ I pre- 
sume likely we will. Did you dream anything like 
this? You’d better see if you can’t dream your- 
self out now.’ ’Twas rubbin’ it in, but I was 
mad. 

“‘Oh! ohl’ says he, flappin’ his hands. 
‘ And me a deacon of the church ! Will folks 
know it, do you think ? ’ 

“ ‘ Will they know it ! Sounds as if they knew 
it already. Just listen to that.’ 

“ The first wagon full of prizes was bein’ 
loaded in down at the front door, and the crowd 
outside was cheerin’ ’em. Judgin’ by the whoops 
and hurrahs there wa’n’t no less than a million 
folks at the show, and they was gettin’ the wuth of 
admission. 

“ ‘ Oh, dear! ’ groans Jonadab. ‘ And it’ll be 
in the papers and all! I can’t stand this.’ 

267 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ And afore I could stop him he’d run over 
and tackled the head policeman. 

“ ‘ Mister — Mister Cap’n,’ he says, pantin’, 

‘ there’s been a mistake, an awful mis — take ’ 

“ ‘ That’s right,’ says the police cap’n, ‘ there 
has. Six or eight of you tin horns got clear. 
But — ’ Then he noticed who was speakin’ to him 
and his mouth dropped open like a hatch. ‘ Well, 
saints above ! ’ he says. ‘ Have the up-state dele- 
gates got to buckin’ the ponies, too? Why ain’t 
you back home killin’ pertater bugs? You ought 
to be ashamed.’ 

“ ‘ But we wa’n’t gamblin’ — me and my friend 
wa’n’t. We was led in here by mistake. We 
was told that a feller named Kelly lived here and 
we’re huntin’ for a man of that name. I’ve got 
a message to him from his poor dead father back 
in Orham. We come all the way from Orham, 

Mass. — to find him and ’ 

“ The police cap’n turned around then and 
stared at him hard. ‘ Humph I ’ says he, after a 
spell. ‘ Go over there and set down till I want 
you. No, you’ll go now and we’ll waste no breath 
on it. Go on, do you hear ! ’ 

“ So we went, and there we set for ha’f an 
hour, while the rest of the gang and the black- 
boards and the paper slips and the telephones and 
Big Mike and his chair was bein’ carted off to the 
wagon. Once, when one of the constables was heat- 
in’ acrost to get us, the police cap’n spoke to him. 

268 


A VISION SENT 


“ * You can leave these two/ he says. ‘ I’ll take 
care of them.’ 

“ So, finally, when there was nothin’ left but 
the four walls and us and some of the police, he 
takes me and Jonadab by the elbows and heads for 
the door. 

“ ‘ Now,’ says he, ‘ walk along quiet and 
peaceable and tell me all about It. Get out of 
this ! ’ he shouts to the crowd of small boys and 
loafers on the sidewalk, ‘ or I’ll take you, too.’ 

“ The outsiders fell astern, lookin’ heartbroke 
and disapp’inted that we wa’n’t hung on the spot, 
and the fat boss policeman and us two paraded 
along slow but grand. I felt like the feller that 
was caught robbln’ the poorhouse, and I cal’late 
Joqadab felt the same, only he was so busy beggin’ 
and pleadin’ and explainin’ that he couldn’t stop to 
feel anything. 

“ He told it all, the whole fool yam from one 
end to t’other. How old Pat give him the mes- 
sage and how he went to the laundry, and about 
his ridiculous dream, every word. And the fat 
policeman shook all over, like a barrel of cod 
livers. 

“ By and by we got to a corner of a street and 
hove to. I could see the station house loomin’ up 
large ahead. Fatty took a card from his pocket- 
book, wrote on it with a pencil, and then hailed a 
hack, one of them stern-first kind where the driver 
sits up aloft ’way aft. He pushed back the cap 
269 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


with the gilt wreath on it, and I could see his red 
hair shinin’ like a sunset. 

“ ‘ Here,’ says he to the hack driver, ‘ take 
these — this pair of salads to the — what d’ye call 
it? — the Golconda House, wherever on top of the 
pavement that is. And mind you, deliver ’em safe 
and don’t let the truck horses get a bite at ’em. 
And at half-past eight to-night you call for ’em 
and bring ’em here,’ handin’ up the card he’d writ- 
ten on. 

“ ‘ ’Tis the address of my house. I’m givin’,’ 
he says, turnin’ to Jonadab. ‘ I’ll be off duty then 
and we’ll have dinner and talk about old times. 
To think of you landin’ in Silver Pete’s pool room I 
Dear! dear! Why, Cap’n Wixon, barrin’ that 
your whiskers are a bit longer and a taste grayer. 
I’d ’a’ known you anywheres. Many’s the time 
I’ve stole apples over your back fence. I’m Jim- 
mie Kelly,’ says he.” 

“ Well, by mighty! ” exclaimed the depot mas- 
ter, slapping his knee. “ So he was the Kelly 
man ! Humph ! ” 

“Funny how it turned out, wa’n’t it?” said 
Barzilla. “ Course, Cap’n Jonadab was perfectly 
sat on spiritu’lism and signs and omens and such 
after that. He’s had his fortune told no less’n 
eight times sence, and, nigh’s I can find out, each 
time it’s different. The amount of blondes and 
brunettes and widows and old maids that he’s 
.slated to marry, accordin’ to them fortune tellers, 
270 


A VISION SENT 


Is perfectly scandalous. If he lives up to the 
prophecies, Brigham Young wouldn’t be a two- 
spot ’longside of him.” 

“ It’s funny about dreams,” mused Captain 
Hiram. “ Folks are always tellin’ about their 
cornin’ true, but none of mine ever did. I used to 
dream I was goin’ to be drowned, but I ain’t beea 
yet.” 

The depot master laughed. “ Well,” he ob- 
served, “ once, when I was a youngster, I dreamed 
two nights runnin’ that I was bein’ hung. I asked 
my Sunday school teacher if he believed dreams 
come true, and he said yes, sometimes. Then I 
told him my dream, and he said he believed in that 
one. I judged that any other finish for me would 
have surprised him. But, somehow or other, they 
haven’t hung me yet.” 

“ There was a hired girl over at the Old Home 
House who was sat on fortune tellin’,” said Win- 
gate. “ Her name was Effie, and ” 

“ Look here ! ” broke in Captain Bailey Stitt, 
righteous indignation in his tone, “ I’ve started no 
less than nineteen different times to tell you about 
how I went sailin’ in an automobile. Now do you 
want to hear it, or don’t you ? ” 

“ How you went sailin* in an auto? ” repeated 
Barzilla. “ Went ridin’, you mean.” 

“ I mean sailin’. I went ridin’, too, but ” 

“ You’ll have to excuse me, Bailey,” inter- 
rupted Captain Hiram, rising and looking at his 
271 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


watch. “ I’ve stayed here a good deal longer’n I 
ought to, already. I must be gettin’ on home to 
see how poor little Dusenberry, my boy, is feelin’. 
I do hope he’s better by now. I wish Dr. Parker 
hadn’t gone out of town.” 

The depot master rose also. “ And I’ll have 
to be excused, too,” he declared. “ It’s most time 
for the up. train. Good-by, Hiram. Give my re- 
gards to Sophrony, and if there’s anything I can 
do to help, in case your baby should be sick, just 
sing out, won’t you ? ” 

“ But I want to tell about this automobilin’ 
scrape,” protested Captain Bailey. “ It was one 
of them things that don’t happen every day.” 

“ So was that fortune business of Effie’s,” de- 
clared Wingate. “ Honest, the way it worked 
out was queer enough.” 

But the train whistled just then and the group 
broke up. Captain Sol went out to the platform, 
where Cornelius Rowe, Ed Crocker, Beriah Hig- 
gins, Obed Gott, and other interested citizens had 
already assembled. Wingate and Stitt followed. 
As for Captain Hiram Baker, he hurried home, 
his conscience reproving him for remaining so long 
away from his wife and poor little Hiram Joash, 
more familiarly known as ‘‘ Dusenberry.” 


CHAPTER XIII 
dusenberry's birthday 


M rs. baker met her husband at the 
door. 

“ How is he? ” was the Captain’s 
first question. Better, hey? ” 

“ No,” was the nervous answer. “ No, I don’t 
think he is. His throat’s terrible sore and the 
fever’s just as bad.” 

Again Captain Hiram’s conscience smote 
him. 


“Dear! dear!” he exclaimed. “And I’ve 
been loafin’ around the depot with Sol Berry and 
the rest of ’em instead of stayin’ home with you, 
Sophrony. I knew^l was doin’ wrong, but I didn’t 
realize ” 

“ Course you didn’t, Hiram. I’m glad you 
got a few minutes’ rest, after bein’ up with him 
half the night. I do wish the Doctor was home, 
though. When will he be back? ” 

“ Not until late to-morrer, if then. Did you 
keep on givin’ the medicine? ” 

“ Yes, but it don’t seem to do much good. 

273 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


You go and set with him now, Hiram. I must be 
seein’ about supper.” 

So into the sick room went Captain Hiram 
to sit beside the crib and sing “ Sailor boy, sailor 
boy, ’neath the wild billow,” as a lugubrious 
lullaby. 

Little Hiram Joash tossed and tumbled. He 
was in a fitful slumber when Mrs. Baker called 
her husband to supper. The meal was anything 
but a cheerful one. They talked but little. Over 
the home, ordinarily so cheerful, had settled a 
gloom that weighed upon them. 

“ My ! my ! ” sighed Captain Hiram, “ how 
lonesome it seems without him chatterin’ and 
racketin’ sound. Seems darker’n usual, as if there 
was a shadow on the place.” 

“ Hush, Hiram ! don’t talk that way. A 
shadow! Oh, what made you say that Sounds 
like a warnin’, almost.” 

, “Warnin’?” 

“Yes, a forewarnin’, you know. ‘ The valley 
of the shadow ’ ” 

“ Hush! ” Captain Baker’s face paled under 
its sunburn. “ Don’t say such things, Sophrony. 
If that happened, the Lord help you and me. But 
it won’t — it won’t. We’re nervous, that’s all. 
We’re always so careful of Dusenberry, as if he 
was made out of thin china, that we get fidgety 
when there’s no need of it. We mustn’t be 
foolish.” 


274 


DUSENBERRY’S BIRTHDAY 


After supper Mrs. Baker tiptoed into the bed- 
room. She emerged with a very white face. 

“ Hiram,’’ she whispered, “ he acts dreadful 
queer. Come in and see him.” 

The “ first mate ” was tossing back and forth 
in the crib, making odd little choky noises in his 
swollen throat. When his father entered he 
opened his eyes, stared unmeaningly, and said: 

’Tand by to det der ship under way.” 

“Good Lord! he’s out of his head,” gasped 
the Captain. Sophronia and he stepped back into 
the sitting room and looked at each other, the 
same thought expressed in the face of each. 
Neither spoke for a moment, then Captain Hiram 
said: 

“Now don’t you worry, Sophrony. The Doc- 
tor ain’t home, but I’m goin’ out to — to telegraph 
him, or somethin’. Keep a stiff upper lip. It’ll 
be all right. God couldn’t go back on you and 
me that way. He just couldn’t. I’ll be back in a 
little while.” 

“ But, oh, Hiram ! if he should — if he should 
be taken away, what would we do ? ” 

She began to cry. Her husband laid a trem- 
bling hand on her shoulder. 

“ But he won’t, ^ he declared stoutly. “ I tell 
you God wouldn’t do such a thing. Good-by, old 
lady. I’ll hurry fast as I can.” 

As he took up his cap and turned to the door 
he heard the voice of the weary little first mate 
275 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


choklly calling his crew to quarters. “ All hands 
on deck! ” 

The telegraph office was in Beriah Higgins’s 
store. Thither ran the Captain. Pat Sharkey, 
Mr. Higgins’s Irish helper, who acted as telegraph 
operator during Gertie Higgins’s absence, gave 
Captain Hiram little satisfaction. 

“How can I get Dr. Parker?” asked Pat. 
“ He’s off on a cruise and land knows where I 
can reach him to-night. I’ll do what I can, Cap, 
but it’s ten chances out of nine against a wire get- 
tin’ to him.” 

Captain Hiram left the store, dodging ques- 
tioners who were anxious to know what his trouble 
might be, and dazedly crossed Main Street, to the 
railway station. He thought of asking advice of 
his friend, the depot master. 

The evening train from Boston pulled out as 
he passed through the waiting room. One or two 
passengers were standing on the platform. One 
of these was a short, square-shouldered man with 
gray side whiskers and eyeglasses. The initials 
on his suit case were J. S. M., Boston, and they 
stood for John Spencer Morgan. If the bearer 
of the suit case had followed the fashion of the 
native princes of India and had emblazoned his 
titles upon his baggage, the commonplace name 
just quoted might have been followed by “ M.D., 
LL.D., at Harvard and Oxford; vice president 
American Medical Society; corresponding secretary 
276 


DUSENBERRY’S BIRTHDAY 


Associated Society of Surgeons; lecturer at Har- 
vard Medical College; author of ‘ Diseases of the 
Throat and Lungs/ etc., etc.” 

But Dr. Morgan was not given to advertising 
either his titles or himself, and he was hurrying 
across the platform to Redny Blount’s depot wag- 
on when Captain Hiram touched him on the arm. 

‘‘ Why, hello. Captain Baker,” exclaimed the 
Doctor, “ how do you do? ” 

“ Dr. Morgan,” said the Captain, “ I — I hope 
you’ll excuse my presumin’ on you this way, but I 
want to ask a favor of you, a great favor. I want 
to ask if you’ll come down to the house and see the 
boy; he’s on the sick list.” 

“What, Dusenberry? ” 

“ Yes, sir. He’s pretty bad. I’m ’fraid, and 
the old lady’s considerable upsot about him. If 
you just come down and kind of take an observa- 
tion, so’s we could sort of get our bearin’s, as you 
might say, ’twould be a mighty help to all hands.” 

“But where’s your town physician? Hasn’t 
he been called? ” 

The Captain explained. He had inquired, and 
He had telegraphed, but could get no word of Dr. 
Parker’s whereabouts. 

The great Boston specialist listened to Captain 
Hiram’s story in an absent-minded way. Holi- 
days were few and far between with him, and 
when he accepted the long-standing invitation of 
Mr. Ogden Williams to run down for the week 
277 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


end he determined to forget the science of medi- 
cine and all that pertained to it for the four days 
of his outing. But an exacting patient had de- 
tained him long enough to prevent his taking the 
train that morning, and now, on the moment of his 
belated arrival, he was asked to pay a professional 
call. He liked the Captain, who had taken him out 
fishing several times on his previous excursions to 
East Harniss, and he remembered Dusenberry as 
a happy little sea urchin, but he simply couldn’t 
interrupt his pleasure trip to visit a sick baby. Be- 
sides, the child was Dr. Parker’s patient, and pro- 
fessional ethics forbade interference. 

“ Captain Hiram,” he said, “ I am sorry to 
disappoint you, but it will be impossible for me to 
do what you ask. Mr. Williams expected me this 
morning, and I am late already. Dr. Parker will, 
no doubt, return soon. The baby cannot be dan- 
gerously ill or he would not have left him.” 

The Captain slowly turned away. 

“ Thank you. Doctor,” he said huskily. “ I 
knew I hadn’t no right to ask.” 

He walked across the platform, abstractedly 
striking his right hand into his left. When he 
reached the ticket window he put one hand against 
the frame as if to steady himself, and stood there 
listlessly. 

The enterprising Mr. Blount had been hang- 
ing about the Doctor like a cat about the cream 
pitcher; now he rushed up, grasped the suit case, 
278 


DUSENBERRY’S BIRTHDAY 


and officiously led the way toward the depot wag- 
on. Dr. Morgan followed more slowly. As he 
passed the Captain he glanced up into the latter’s 
face, lighted, as it was, by the lamp inside the 
window. 

The Doctor stopped and looked again. Then 
he took another step forward, hesitated, turned on 
his heel, and said: 

“ Wait a moment, Blount. Captain Hiram, 
do you live far from here? ” 

The Captain started. No, sir, only a little 
ways.” 

“ All right. I’ll go down and look at this boy 
of yours. Mind you. I’ll not take the case, simply 
give my opinion on it, that’s all. Blount, take my 
grip to Mr. Williams’s. I’m going to walk down 
with the Captain.” 

“ Haul on ee bowline, ee bowline, haul! ” mut- 
tered the first mate, as they came into the room. 
The lamp that Sophronia was holding shook, and 
the Captain hurriedly brushed his eyes with the 
back of his hand. 

Dr. Morgan started perceptibly as he bent 
forward to look at the little fevered face of Du- 
senberry. Graver and graver he became as he felt 
the pulse and peered into the swollen throa't. At 
length he rose and led the way back into the sit- 
ting room. 

“ Captain Baker,” he said simply, ” I must 
279 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


ask you and your wife to be brave. The child has 
diphtheria and ” 

“ Diphthery! ” gasped Sophronia, as white as 
her best tablecloth. 

“ Good Lord above ! ” cried the Captain. 

“ Diphtheria,” repeated the Doctor; “ and, al- 
though I dislike extremely to criticize a member of 
my own profession, I must say that any physician 
should have recognized it.” 

Sophronia groaned and covered her face with 
her apron. 

“ Ain’t there — ain’t there no chance, Doctor? ” 
gasped the Captain. 

“ Certainly, there’s a chance. If I could ad- 
minister antitoxin by to-morrow noon the patient 
might recover. What time does the morning train 
from Boston arrive here? ” 

“ Ha’f-past ten or thereabouts.” 

Dr. Morgan took his notebook from his 
pocket and wrote a few lines in pencil on one of 
the pages. Then he tore out the leaf and handed 
it to the Captain. 

“ Send that telegram immediately to my as- 
sistant in Boston,” he said. “ It directs him to 
send the antitoxin by the early train. If nothing 
interferes it should be hefe in time.” 

Captain Hiram took the slip of paper and ran 
out at the door bareheaded. 

Dr. Morgan stood in the middle of the floor 
absent-mindedly loaking at his watch. Sophronia 
280 



Dr. Morgan started perceptibly as he bent forward 



DUSENBERRY’S BIRTHDAY 


was gazing at him appealingly. At length he put 
his watch in his pocket and said quietly : 

“ Mrs. Baker, I must ask you to give me a 
room. I will take the case.” Then he added men- 
tally: “And that settles my vacation.” 

Dr. Morgan’s assistant was a young man 
whom nature had supplied with a prematurely 
bald head, a flourishing beard, and a way of ap- 
pearing ten years older than he really was. To 
these gifts, priceless to a young medical man, 
might be added boundless ambition and consider- 
able common sense. 

The yellow envelope which contained the few 
lines meaning life or death to little Hiram Joash 
Baker was delivered at Dr. Morgan’s Back Bay 
office at ten minutes past ten. Dr. Payson — that 
was the assistant’s name — was out, but Jackson, 
the colored butler, took the telegram into his em- 
ployer’s office, laid it on the desk among the 
papers, and returned to the hall to finish his nap 
in the armchair. When Dr. Payson came in, at 
1 1 :30, the sleepy Jackson forgot to mention the 
dispatch. 

The next morning as Jackson was cleaning the 
professional boots in the kitchen and chatting with 
the cook, the thought of the yellow envelope came 
back to his brain. He went up the stairs with such 
precipitation that the cook screamed, thinking he 
had a fit. 


19 


281 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

Doctah ! Doctah I ** he exclaimed, opening 
the door of the assistant’s chamber, “ did you git 
dat telegraft I lef’ on your desk las’ night? ” 

“What telegraph?” asked the assistant 
sleepily. By way of answer Jackson hurried out 
and returned with the yellow envelope. The as- 
sistant opened it and read as follows: 

Send 1,500 units Diphtheritic Serum to me by morning 
train. Don’t fail. Utmost importance. 

J. S. Morgan. 

Dr. Payson sprang out of bed, and running to 
the table took up the Railway Guide, turned to the 
pages devoted to the O. C. and C. C. Railroad and 
ran his finger down the printed tables. The morn- 
ing train for Cape Cod left at 7 :io. It was 6 145 
at that moment. As has been said, the assistant 
had considerable common sense. He proved this 
by wasting no time in telling the forgetful Jackson 
what he thought of him. He sent the latter after 
a cab and proceeded to dress in double-quick time. 
Ten minutes later he was on his way to the station 
with the little wooden case containing the precious 
antitoxin, wrapped and addressed, in his pocket. 

It was seven by the Arlington Street Church 
clock as the cab rattled down Boylston Street. A 
tangle of a trolley car and a market wagon de- 
layed it momentarily at Harrison Avenue and 
Essex Street. Dr. Payson, leaning out as the car- 
riage swung into Dewey Square, saw by the big 
282 


DUSENBERRY’S BIRTHDAY 


clock on the Union Station that it was 7:13. He 
had lost the train. 

Now, the assistant had been assistant long 
enough to know that excuses — in the ordinary- 
sense of the word — did not pass current with Dr. 
Morgan. That gentleman had telegraphed for 
antitoxin, and said it was important that he 
should have it; therefore, antitoxin must be sent 
in spite of time-tables and forgetful butlers. Dr. 
Payson went into the waiting room and sat down 
to think. After a moment’s deliberation he went 
over to the ticket office and asked : 

“ What is the first stop of the Cape Cod ex- 
press? ” 

‘‘ Brockboro,” answered the ticket seller, 

“ Is the train usually on time? ” 

“ Well, I should smile. That’s Charlie Mills’s 
train, and the old man ain’t been conductor on this 
road twenty-two years for nothin’.” 

“ Mills? Does he live on Shawmut Avenue? ” 

“ Dunno. Billy, where does Charlie Mills 
live?” 

“ Somewhere at the South End. Shawmut 
Avenue, I think.” 

“ Thank you,” said the assistant, and, helping 
himself to a time-table, he went back rejoicing to 
his seat in the waiting room. He had stumbled 
upon an unexpected bit of luck. 

There might be another story written in con- 
nection with this one; the story of a veteran rail- 
283 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


road man whose daughter had been very', very ill 
with a dreaded disease of the lungs, and who, when 
other physicians had given up hope, had been 
brought back to health by a celebrated specialist of 
our acquaintance. But this story cannot be told 
just now; suffice it to say that Conductor Charlie 
Mills had vowed that he would put his neck be- 
neath the wheels of his own express train, if by so 
doing he could confer a favor on Dr. John Spencer 
Morgan. 

The assistant saw by his time-table that the 
Cape Cod express reached Brockboro at 8 105. He 
went over to the telegraph office and wrote two 
telegrams. The first read like this : 

Calvin S. Wise, The People’s Drug Store, 28 Broad 

Street, Brockboro, Mass.: 

Send package 1,500 units Diphtheritic Serum marked 
with my name to station. Hand to Conductor Mills, 
Cape Cod express. Train will wait. Matter life and 
death. 

The second telegram was to Conductor Mills. 
It read: 

Hold train Brockboro to await arrival C. A. Wise. 
Great personal favor. Very important. 

Both of these dispatches were signed with the 
magic name, “ J. S. Morgan, M.D.” 

“ Well,” said the assistant as he rode back to 
hi^ office, “ I don’t know whether Wise will get 
284 


DUSENBERRY’S BIRTHDAY 


the stuff to the train in time, or whether Mills will 
wait for him, but at any rate IVe done my part. I 
hope breakfast is ready. I’m hungry.” 

Mr. Wise, of “ The People’s Drug Store,” had 
exactly two minutes in which to cover the three- 
quarters of a mile to the station. As a matter of 
course, he was late. Inquiring for Conductor 
Mills, he was met by a red-faced man in uniform, 
who, watch in hand, demanded what in the vale of 
eternal torment he meant by keeping him waiting 
eight minutes. 

“ Do you realize,” demanded the red-faced 
man, “ that I’m liable to lose my job? I’ll have 
you to understand that if any other man than Doc. 
Morgan asked me to hold up the Cape Cod ex- 
press, I’d tell him to go right plumb to ” 

Here Mr. Wise interrupted to hand over the 
package and explain that it was a matter of life 
and death. Conductor Mills only grunted as he 
swung aboard the train. 

“ Hump her, Jim,” he said to the engineer; 
“ she’s got to make up those eight minutes.” 

And Jim did. 

And so it happened that on the morning of 
the Fourth of July, Dusenberry’s birthday, Cap- 
tain Hiram Baker and his wife sat together in the 
sitting room, with very happy faces. The Captain 
had in his hands the “ truly boat with sails,” which 
the little first mate had so ardently wished for. 

285 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


She was a wonder, that boat. Red hull, real 
lead on the keel, brass rings on the masts, reef 
points on the main and fore sail, jib, flying jib and 
topsails, all complete. And on the stern was the 
name, “ Dusenberry. East Harniss.” 

Captain Hiram set her down in front of him 
on the floor. 

“ Gee ! ” he exclaimed, “ won’t his eyes stick 
out when he sees that rig, hey? Wisht he would 
be well enough to see it to-day, same as we 
planned.” 

“ Well, Hiram,” said Sophrony, “ we hadn’t 
ought to complain. We’d ought to be thankful 
he’s goin’ to get well at all. Dr. Morgan says, 
thanks to that blessed toxing stuff, he’ll be up and 
around in a couple of weeks.” 

“ Sophrony,” said her husband, “ we’ll have a 
special birthday celebration for him when he gets 
all well. You can bake the frosted cake and we’ll 
have some of the other children in. I told you 
God wouldn’t be cruel enough to take him away.” 

And this is how Fate and the medical pro- 
fession and the O. C. and C. C. Railroad com- 
bined to give little Hiram Joash Baker his birth- 
day, and explains why, as he strolled down Main 
Street that afternoon. Captain Hiram was heard 
to sing heartily: 

Haul on the bowline, the *Phrony is a-rollin*, 

Haul on the bowline, the bowline, haul! 


286 


CHAPTER XIV 

EFFIE^S FATE 

S URELY, but very, very slowly, the little 
Berry house moved on its rollers up the 
Hill Boulevard. Right at its heels — if a 
house may be said to have heels — came the “ pure 
Colonial,” under the guidance of the foreman with 
“ progressive methods.” Groups of idlers, male 
and female, stood about and commented.^ Simeon 
Phinney smilingly replied to their questions. Cap- 
tain Sol himself seemed little interested. He spent 
most of his daylight time at the depot, only going 
to the Higginses’ house for his meals. At night, 
after the station was closed, he sought his own 
dwelling, climbed over the joist and rollers, en- 
tered, retired to his room, and went to bed. 

Each day also he grew more taciturn. Even 
with Simeon, his particular friend, he talked little. 

“ What is the matter with you, Sol? ” asked 
Mr. Phinney. “ You’re as glum as a tongue-tied 
parrot. Ain’t you satisfied with the way I’m doin’ 
your movin’ ? The whitw horse can go back again 
if you say so.” 


287 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

“ Pm satisfied,” grunted the depot master. 
“ Let you know when ' I’ve got any fault to find. 
How soon will you get abreast the — abreast the 
Seabury lot? ” 

“ Let’s see,” mused the building mover. To- 
day’s the eighth. Well, I’ll be there by the elev- 
enth, sure. Can’t drag it out no longer, Sol, even 
if the other horse is took sick. ’Twon’t do. 
Williams has been complainin’ to the selectmen 
and they’re beginnin’ to pester me. As for that 
Colt and Adams foreman — wLew 1 ” 

He whistled. His companion smiled grimly. 

“ Williams himself drops in to see me occa- 
sional,” he said. “ Tells me what he thinks of 
me, with all the trimmin’s added. I cal’late he 
gets as good as he sends. I’m always glad to see 
him; he keeps me cheered up, in his way.” 

“ Ye-es, I shouldn’t wonder. Was he in 
to-day ? ” 

“ He was. And somethin’ has pleased him, 
I guess. At any rate he was in better spirits. 
Asked me if I was goin’ to move right onto that 
Main Street lot soon as my house got there.” 

“ What did you say? ” 

“ I said I was cal’latin’ to. Told him I hated 
to get out of the high-society circles I’d been livin’ 
in lately, but that everyone had their comedowns 
in this world.” 

“ Ho, ho ! that w^as a good one. What an- 
swer did he make to that? ” 

288 


EFFIE’S FATE 


“ Well, he said the ‘ high society ’ would miss 
me. Then he finished up with a piece of advice. 
‘ Berry,’ says he, ‘ don’t move onto that lot too 
quick. I wouldn’t if I was you.’ Then he went 
away, chucklin’.” 

“ Chucklin’, hey? What made him so joy- 
ful? ” 

“ Don’t know ” — Captain Sol’s face clouded 
once more — “ and I care less,” he added brusquely. 

Simeon pondered. “ Have you heard from 
Abner Payne, Sol?” he asked. “Has Ab an- 
swered that letter you wrote sayin’ you’d swap 
your lot for the Main Street one ? ” 

“ No, he hasn’t. I wrote him that day I told 
you to move me.” 

“ Hum ! that’s kind of funny. You don’t 
s’pose ” 

He stopped, noticing the expression on his 
friend’s face. The depot master was looking out 
through the open door of the waiting room. On 
the opposite side of the road, just emerging from 
Mr. Higgins’s “ general store,” was Olive Ed- 
wards, the widow whose home was to be pulled 
down as soon as the “ Colonial ” reached its des- 
tination. She came out of the store and started 
up Main Street. Suddenly, and as if obeying an 
involuntary impulse, she turned her head. Her 
eyes met those of Captain Sol Berry, the depot 
master. For a brief instant their glance met, then 
Mrs. Edwards hurried on. 

289 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Sim Phinney sighed pityingly. “ Looks kind 
of tired and worried, don’t she?” he ventured. 
His friend did not speak. 

“ I say,” repeated Phinney, “ that Olive looks 
sort of worn out and ” 

“ Has she heard from the Omaha cousin yet? ” 
interrupted the depot master. 

‘‘No; Mr. Hilton says not. Sol, what do 
you s’pose ” 

But Captain Sol had risen and gone into the 
ticket office. The door closed behind him. Mr. 
Phinney shook his head and walked out of the 
building. On his way back to the scene of the 
house moving he shook his head several times. 

On the afternoon of the ninth Captain Bailey . 
Stitt and his friend Wingate came to say good-by. 
Stitt was going back to Orham on the “ up ” train, 
due at 3 130. Barzilla would return to Wellmouth 
and the Old Home House on the evening (the 
“ down ”) train. 

“ Hey, Sol ! ” shouted Wingate, as they en- 
tered the waiting room. “ Sol! where be you? ” 

The depot master came out of the ticket office. 

“ Hello, boys I ” he said shortly. 

“Hello, Sol!” hailed Stitt. “Barzilla and 
me have come to shed the farewell tear. As hire- 
lin’s of soulless corporations, meanin’ the Old 
Home House at Wellmouth and the Ocean House 
at Orham, weVe engaged all the shellfish along- 
shore and are goin’ to clear out.” 

290 


EFFIE’S FATE 


“ Yes,” chimed in his fellow “ hireling,” “ and 
we thought the pleasantest place to put in our few 
remainin’ hours — as the papers say when a feller’s 
goin’ to be hung — was with you.” 

“ I thought so,” said Captain Bailey, with a 
wink. “ We’ve been havin’ more or less of an 
argument, Sol. Remember how Barzilla made 
fun of Jonadab Wixon for believin’ in dreams? 
Yes, well that was only make believe. He be- 
lieves in ’em himself.” 

“ I don’t either,” declared Wingate. “ And I 
never said so. What I said was that sometimes it 
almost seemed as if there was somethin’ in fortune 
tellin’ and such.” 

“ There is,” chuckled Bailey with another 
wink at the depot master. “ There’s money in it 
— for the fortune tellers.” 

“ I said — and I say again,” protested Barzilla, 
‘‘ that I knew a case at our hotel of a servant girl 
named ElEe, and she ” 

“ Oh, Heavens to Betsy! Here he goes again, 
I steered him in here on purpose, Sol, so’s he’d get 
off that subject.” 

“You never neither. You said ” 

The depot master held up his hand. “ Don’t 
both talk at once,” he commanded. “ Set down 
and be peaceful, can’t you. That’s right. What 
about this Effie, Barzilla?” 

“Now look here 1 ” protested Stitt. 

“ Shut up, Bailey ! Who was Effie, Barzilla ? 

291 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ She was third assistant roustabout and table 
girl at the Old Home House,” said Wingate tri- 
umphantly. “Got another cigar, Sol? Thanks. 
Yes, this Effie had never worked out afore and 
she was greener’n a mess of spinach; but she was 
kind of pretty to look at and ” 

“ Ah, ha 1 ” crowed Captain Bailey, “ here 
comes the heart confessions. Want to look out 
for these old bachelors, Sol. Fire away, Barzilla ; 
let us know the worst.” 

“ I took a fancy to her, in a way. She got in 
the habit of tellin’ me her troubles and secrets, 
me bein’ old enough to be her dad ” 

“Aw, yes! ” this from Stitt, the irrepressible. 
“ That’s an old gag. We know ” 

“ Will you shut up? ” demanded Captain Sol. 
“ Go on, Barzilla.” 

“ Me bein’ old enough to be her dad,” with a 
glare at Captain Bailey, “ and not bein’ too proud 
to talk with hired help. I never did have that 
high-toned notion. ’Twa’n’t so long since I was 
a fo’mast hand. 

“ So Effie told me a lot about herself. Seems 
she’d been over to the Cattle Show at Ostable one 
year, and she was loaded to the gunwale with some 
more or less facts that a fortune-tellin’ specimen 
by the name of the ‘ Marvelous Oriental Seer ’ had 
handed her in exchange for a quarter. 

“ ‘ Yup,’ says she, bobbin’ her head so em- 
phatic that the sky-blue ribbon pennants on her 
292 


EFFIE’S FATE 


black hair flapped like a loose tops’l in a gale of 
wind. ‘ Yup,’ says she, ‘ I b’lieve it just as much 
as I b’lieve anything. How could I help it when 
he told me so much that has come true already? 
He said Fd seen trouble, aftd the dear land knows 
that’s so ! and that I might see more, and I cal’late 
that’s pretty average likely. And he said I hadn’t 

been brought up in luxury ’ 

“ ‘ Which wa’n’t no exaggeration neither,’ I 
put in, thinkin’ of the shack over on the Neck 
Road where she and her folks used to live. 

“ ‘ No,’ says she; ‘ and he told me Fd always 
had longin’s for better and higher things and that 
my intellectuals was above my station. Well, ever 
sence I was knee high to a kitchen chair Fd ruther 
work upstairs than down, and as for intellectuals, 
ma always said I was the smartest young one she’d 
raised yet. So them statements give me consid- 
er’ble confidence. But he give out that I was to 
make a journey and get money, and when that 
come true I held up both hands and stood ready to 
swaller all the rest of it’ 

“ ‘ So it come true, did it? ’ says 1. 

“ ‘ Um-hm,’ says she, bouncin’ her head again. 
‘ Inside of four year I traveled ’way over to South 
Eastboro — ’most twelve mile — to my Uncle Is- 
sy’s fun’ral, and there I found that he’d left me 
nine hundred dollars for my very own. And down 
I flops on the parlor sofy and says I: “There! 
don’t talk superstition to me no more! A person 

293 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


that can foretell Uncle Issy’s givin’ anybody a 
cent, let alone nine hundred dollars, is a good 
enough prophet for me to tie to. Now I know 
that Pm going to marry the dark-complected man, 
and ril be ready for him when he comes along. 
I never spent a quarter no better than when I 
handed it over to that Oriental Seer critter at the 
Cattle Show.” That’s what I said then and I 
b’lieve it yet. Wouldn’t you feel the same way? ’ 

“ I said sure thing I would. I’d found out 
that the best way to keep Effie’s talk shop runnin’ 
was to agree with her. And I liked to hear her 
talk. 

“ ‘ Yup,’ she went on, ‘ I give right in then. 
I’d traveled same as the fortune teller said, and 
I’d got more money ’n I ever expected to see, let 
alone own. And ever sence I’ve been sartin as I’m 
alive that the feller I marry will be of a rank 
higher’n mine and dark complected and good-look- 
in’ and distinguished, and that he’ll be name of 
Butler.’ 

“ ‘ Butler? ’ says I. * What will he be named 
Butler for ? ’ 

“ ‘ ’Cause the Seer critter said so. He said 
he could see the word Butler printed out over the 
top of my head in flamin’ letters. Pa used to say 
’twas a wonder it never set fire to my crimps, but 
he was only foolin’. I know that it’s all cornin’ 
out true. You ain’t acquaintanced to any Butlers, 
are you ? ’ 


294 


EFFIE’S FATE 


“ * No,* says L ‘ I heard Ben Butler make a 
speech once when he was gov’nor, but he’s dead 
now. There ain’t no Butlers on the Old Home 
shippin’ lists.’ 

‘ Oh, I know that ! ’ she says. ‘ And every- 
body round here is homelier’n a moultin’ pullet. 
There now! I didn’t mean exactly everybody^ of 
course. But you ain’t dark complected, you know, 
nor ’ 

“ ‘ No,’ says I, ‘ nor rank nor distinguished 
neither. Course the handsome part might fit me, 
but I’d have to pass on the rest of the hand. 
That’s all right, Effie; my feelin’s have got fire- 
proofed sence I’ve been in the summer hotel busi- 
ness. Now you’d better run along and report to 
Susannah. I hear her whoopin’ for you, and she 
don’t light like a canary bird on the party she’s 
mad with.’ 

“ She didn’t, that was a fact. Susannah Debs, 
who was housekeeper for us that year, was mid- 
dlin’ young and middlin’ good-lookin’, and 
couldn’t forget it. Also and likewise, she had a 
suit for damages against the railroad, which she 
had hopes would fetch her money some day or 
other, and she couldn’t forget that neither. She 
was skipper of all the hired hands and, bein’ as 
Effie was prettier than she was, never lost a chance 
to lay the poor girl out. She put the other help 
up to pokin’ fun at Effie’s green ways and high- 
toned notions, and ^twas her that started ’em call- 
295 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


in’ her * Lady Evelyn ’ in the fo’castle — servants’ 
quarters, I mean. 

“ ‘ I’m a-comin’, ’ screams Effie, startin’ for 
the door. * Susannah’s in a tearin’ hurry to get 
through early to-day,’ she adds to me. ‘ She’s 
got the afternoon off, and her beau’s cornin’ to take 
her buggy ridin’. He’s from over Harniss way 
somewheres and they say he’s just lovely. My 
sakes! I wisht somebody’d take me to ride. Ah 
hum ! cal’late I’ll have to wait for my Butler man. 
Say, Mr. Wingate, you won’t mention my fortune 
to a soul, will you? I never told anybody but 
you.’ 

“ I promised to keep mum and she cleared out. 
After dinner, as I was smokin’, along with Cap’n 
Jonadab, on the side piazza, a horse and buggy 
drove in at the back gate. A young chap with 
black curly hair was pilotin’ the craft. He was a 
stranger to me, wore a checkerboard suit and a 
bonfire necktie, and had his hat twisted over one 
ear. Altogether he looked some like a sunflower 
goin’ to seed. 

“ ‘ Who’s that barber’s sign when it’s to 
home?’ says I to Jonadab. He snorted con- 
temptuous. 

“ ‘ That? ’ he says. ‘ Don’t you know the cut 
of that critter’s jib? He plays pool “ for the 
house ” in Web Saunders’s place over to Orham. 
He’s the housekeeper’s steady comp’ny — steady by 
spells, if all I bear’s true. Good-for-nothin’ cub, 
296 


EFFIE’S FATE 


I call him. Wisht Fd had him aboard a vessel 
of mine ; I’d ’a’ squared his yards for him. Look 
how he cants his hat to starboard so’s to show 
them lovelocks. Bah ! ’ 

“ ‘ What’s his name? ’ I asks. 

‘‘‘Name? Name’s Butler — Simeon Butler. 
Don’t you remember . . . Hey? What in tun- 
ket . . . ? ’ 

“ Both of us had jumped as If somebody’d 
touched off a bombshell under our main hatches. 
The windows of the dining room was right astern 
of us. We whirled round, and there was Effie. 
She’d been clearin’ off one of the tables and there 
she stood, with the smashed pieces of an Ice-cream 
platter In front of her, the melted cream sloppin’ 
over her shoes, and her face lookin’ like the pic- 
ture of Lot’s wife just turnin’ to salt. Only Effie 
looked as if she enjoyed the turnin’. She never 
spoke nor moved, just stared after that buggy with 
her black eyes sparklin’ like burnt holes In a 
blanket. 

“ I was too astonished to say anything, but 
Jonadab had his eye on that smashed platter and 
he had things to say, plenty of ’em. I walked off 
and left Effie playin’ congregation to a sermon on 
the text ‘ Crockery costs money.’ You’d think 
that Ice-cream dish was a genuine ugly, nicked ‘ an- 
tique ’ wuth any city loon’s ten dollars. Instead of 
bein’ only new and pretty fifty-cent china. I felt 
real sorry for the poor girl. 

20 297 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ But I needn’t have been. That evenin’ I 
found her on the back steps, all Sunday duds and 
airs. Her hair had a wire friz on it, and her 
dress had Joseph’s coat in Scriptur’ lookin’ like a 
mournin’ rig. She’d have been real handsome — to 
a body that was color blind. 

“ ‘ My, Effie I ’ says I, ‘ you sartin do look 
fine to-night.’ 

“ ‘ Yup,’ she says, contented, ‘ I guess likely I 
do. Hope so, ’cause I’m wearin’ all I’ve got. 
Say, Mr. Wingate,’ says she, excited as a cat in a 
fit, ‘ did you see him ? ’ 

“‘Him?’ says I. ‘Who’s him?’ 

“‘Why, him! The one the Seer said was 
cornin’. The handsome, dark-complected feller 
I’m goin’ to marry. The Butler one. That was 
him in the buggy this afternoon.’ 

“ I looked at her. I’d forgot all about the 
fool prophecy. ^ 

“ ‘ Good land of love! ’ I says. ‘You don’t 
cal’late he’s cornin’ to marry yow, do you, just 
’cause his name’s Butler? There’s ten thousand 
Butlers in the world. Besides, your particular one 
was slated to be high ranked and distinguished, 
and this specimen scrubs up ,the billiard-room floor 
and ain’t no more distingilished than a poorhouse 
pig-’ 

“‘Ain’t?’ she sings out. ‘Ain’t distin- 
guished? With all them beautiful curls, and rings 
on his fingers, and ’ 


298 


EFFIE’S FATE 


“ ‘ Bells on his toes? No! ’ says I, emphatic. 
‘ Anyhow, he’s signed for the v’yage already. 
He’s Susannah Debs’s steady, and they’re off bug- 
gy ridin’ together right now. And If she catches 
you makin’ eyes at her best feller — Whew I ’ 

“ Didn’t make no difference. He was her 
Butler, sure. ’Twas Fate — that’s what ’twas — 
Fate, just the same as In storybooks. She was 
sorry for poor Susannah and she wouldn’t do 
nothin’ mean nor underhanded; but couldn’t I un- 
derstand that ’twas all planned out for her by 
Providence and that everlastin’ Seer? Just let 
me watch and see, that’s aH. 

“ What can you do with an Idiot like that? I 
walked off disgusted and left her. But I cal’lated 
to watch. I judged ’twould be more fun than any 
play-actin’ show ever I took In. 

“ And ’twas. In a way. Don’t ask me how 
they got acquainted, ’cause I can’t tell you for 
sartin. Nigh’s I can learn, Susannah and Sim had 
some sort of lover’s row durin’ their buggy ride, 
and when they got back to the hotel they was 
scurcely on speakin’ terms.- And Sim, who always 
had a watch out for’ard for pretty girls, see Effie 
standin’ on the servants’ porch all togged up re- 
gardless and gay as a tea-store chromo, and nothin’ 
to do but he must be Introduced. One of the sta- 
ble hands done the Introducin’, I b’lleve, and if 
he’d have been hung afterwards ’twould have 
sarved him right. 


299 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Anyhow, inside of a week Butler come round 
again to take a lady friend drivin’, but this time 
’twas Effie, not the housekeeper, that was passen- 
ger. And Susannah glared after ’em like a cat 
after a sparrow, and the very next day she was 
for havin’ Effie discharged for incompetentiyeness. 
I give Jonadab the tip, though, so that didn’t go 
through. But I cal’late there was a parrot and 
monkey time among the help from then on. 

‘‘ They all sided with Susannah, of course. 
She was their boss, for one thing, and ‘ Lady 
Evelyn’s ’ high-minded notions wa’n’t popular, for 
another. But Effie didn’t care— bless you, no! 
She and that Butler sport was together more and 
more, and the next thing I heard was that they 
was engaged. I snum, if it didn’t look as if the 
Oriental man knew his job after all. 

“ I spoke to the stable hand about it. 

‘ Look here,’ says I, ‘ is this business betwixt 
that pool player and our Effie serious? ’ 

“ He laughed. ‘ Serious enough, I guess,’ he 
says. ‘ They’re goin’ to be married pretty soon, 
I hear. It’s all ’cordin’ to the law and the 
prophets. Ain’t you heard about the fortune 
tellin’ and how ’twas foretold she’d marry a 
Butler? ’ 

“ I’d heard, but I didn’t s’pose he had. How- 
ever, it seemed that Effie hadn’t been able to keep 
it to herself no longer. Soon as she’d hooked her 
man she’d blabbed the whole thing. The fo’mast 
300 


EFFIE’S FATE 

hands wa’n’t talkin’ of nothin’ else, so this feller 
said. 

“ ‘ Humph I ’ says L * Is it the prophecy that 
Butler’s bankin’ on ? ’ 

“ He laughed again. * Not so much as oa 
Lady Evelyn’s nine hundred, I cal’latc,’ says he. 
* Sim likes Susannah the best of the two, so we all 
reckon, but she ain’t rich and Effie is. And yet, 
if the Debs woman should win that lawsuit of hers 
against the railroad she’d have pretty nigh twice 
as much. Butler’s a fool not to wait, / think,’ he 
says. 

“ This was of a Monday. On Friday evenin’ 
Eflie comes around to see me. I was alone in the 
office. 

“ ‘ Mr. Wingate,’ she says, ‘ I’m goin’ to leave 
to-morrer night. I’m goin’ to be married on Sun- 
day.’ 

“ I’d been expecting it, but I couldn’t help feel- 
in’ sorry for her. 

“ * Don’t do nothin’ rash, Effie,’ I told her. 
‘ Are you sure that Butler critter cares anything 
about you and not your money ? ’ 

“ She flared up like a tar barrel. * The idea ! ’ 
she says, turnin’ red. ‘ I just come in to give you 
warnin’. Good-by.’ 

“ ‘ Hold on,’ I sung out to her. ‘ Effie, I’ve 
thought consider’blc about you lately. I’ve been 
tryin’ to help you a little on the sly. I realized 
that ’twa’n’t pleasant for you workin’ here under 
301 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Susannah Debs, and IVe been tryin’ to find a nice 
place for you. I wrote about you to Bob Van 
Wedderburn; he’s the rich banker chap who 
stopped here one summer. “ Jonesy,” we used to 
call him. I know him and his wife fust rate, and 
he’d do ’most anything as a favor to me. I told 
him what a neat, handy girl you was, and he writes 
that he’ll give you the job of second girl at his 
swell New York house, if you want it. Now you 
just hand that Sim Butler his clearance papers 
and go work for Bob’s wife. The wages are 

double what you get here, and ’ 

She didn’t wait to hear the rest. Just sailed 
out of the room with her nose in the air. In a 
minute, though, back she come and just put her 
head in the door. 

“ ‘ I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Wingate,’ 
says she. * I know you mean well. But you ain’t 
had your fate foretold, same’s I have. It’s all 
been arranged for me, and I couldn’t stop it no 
more’n Jonah could help swallerin’ the whale. I 
— I kind of wish you’d be on hand at the back 
door on Sunday mornin’ when Simeon comes to 
take me away. You — you’re about the only real 
friend I’ve got,’ she says. 

“ And off she went, for good this time. I pit- 
ied her, in spite of her bein’ such a dough head. 
I knew what sort of a husband that pool-room 
shark would make. However, there wa’n’t noth- 
in’ to be done. And next day Cap’n Jonadab was 
302 


EFFIE’S FATE 


round, madder’n a licked pup. Seems Susannah’s 
lawyer at Orham had sent for her to come right 
off and see him. Somethin’ about the suit, it was. 
And she was goin’ in spite of everything. And 
with Effie’s leavin’ at the same time, what was we 
goin’ to do over Sunday? and so forth and so on. 

“ Well, we had to do the best we could, that’s 
all. But that Saturday was busy, now I tell you. 
Sunday mornin’ broke fine and clear and, after 
breakfast was over, I remembered Effie and that 
’twas her weddin’ day. On the back steps I found 
her, dressed in all her grandeur, with her packed 
trunk ready, waitin’ for the bridegroom. 

“ ‘ Ain’t come yet, hey, Effie? ’ says I. 

“ ‘ No,’ says she, smilin’ and radiant. ‘ It’s 
a little early for him yet, I guess.’ 

“ I went off to ’tend to the boarders. At half 
past ten, when I made the back steps again, she 
was still there. T’other servants was peekin’ out 
of the kitchen windows, grinnin’ and passin’ re- 
marks. 

“ ‘ Hello! ’ I calls out. ‘ Not married yet? 
What’s the matter? ’ 

“ She’d stopped smilin’, but she was as chipper 
as ever, to all appearances. 

“ ‘ I — I guess the horse has gone lame or some- 
thin’,’ says she. ‘ He’ll be here any time now.’ 

“ There was a cackle from the kitchen win- 
dows. I never said nothin’. She’d made her nest; 
now let her roost on it. 

303 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ But at twelve Butler hadn’t hove in sight. 
Every hand, male and female, on the place, that 
wa’n’t busy, was hangin’ around the back of the 
hoteh waitin’ and watchin’ and ridiculin’ and hav- 
in’ a high time. Them that had errands made it 
a p’int to cruise past that way. Lots of the board- 
ers had got wind of the doin’s, and they was there, 
too. 

“ Effie was settin’ on her trunk, tryin’ hard to 
look brave. I went up and spoke to her. 

“ ‘ Come, my girl,’ says I. ‘ Don’t set here no 
longer. Come into the house and wait. Hadn’t 
you better? ’ 

“ ‘ No I ’ says she, loud and defiant like. ‘ No, 
sir! It’s all right. He’s a little late, that’s all. 
What do you s’pose I care for a lot of jealous 
folks like those up there ? ’ wavin’ her flipper scorn- 
ful toward the kitchen. 

“ And then, all to once, she kind of broke 
down, and says to me, with a pitiful sort of choke 
in her voice : 

‘‘ ‘ Oh, Mr. Wingate 1 I can’t stand this. Why 
don^t he come?’ 

“ I tried hard to think of somethin’ comfortin’ 
to say, but afore I could h’ist a satisfyin’ word 
out of my hatches I heard the noise of a carriage 
cornin’. Eflie heard it, too, and so did everybody 
else. We all looked toward the gate. ’Twas Sim 
Butler, sure enough, in his buggy and drivin’ the 
same old horse; but settin’ alongside of him on the 

304 


EFFIE’S FATE 


seat was Susannah Debs, the housekeeper. And 
maybe she didn’t look contented with things in 
gen’ral ! 

“ Butler pulled up his horse by the gate. Him 
and Susannah bowed to all hands. Nobody said 
anything for a minute. Then Effie bounced off 
the trunk and down them steps. 

“ ‘ Simmie ! ’ she sung out, breathless like, 
* Simeon Butler, what does this mean ? ’ 

“ The Debs woman straightened up on the 
seat. ‘ Thank you, marm,’ says she, chilly as the 
top section of an ice chest, ‘ I’ll request you not to 
call my husband by his first name.’ 

“ It was so still you could have heard yourself 
grow. Effie turned white as a Sunday tablecloth. 

“‘Your — husband?’ she gasps. ‘Your — 

your husband? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, marm,’ purrs the housekeeper. ‘ My 
husband was what I said. Mr. Butler and me 
have just been married.’ 

“ ‘ Sorry, Effie, old girl,’ puts in Butler, so 
sassy I’d love to have preached his fun’ral sermon. 
‘ Too bad, but fust love’s strongest, you know. 
Susie and me was engaged long afore you come to 
town.’ 

“ Then such a haw-haw and whoop bust from 
the kitchen and fo’castle as you never heard. For 
a jiffy poor Effie wilted right down. Then she 
braced up and her black eyes snapped. 

“ ‘ I wish you joy of your bargain, marm,’ says 

305 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


she to Susannah. ‘ You’d ought to be proud of it. 
And as for you^'' she says, swingin’ round toward 
the rest of the help, ‘ I ’ 

“‘How ’bout that prophet?’ hollers some- 
body. 

“ ‘ Three cheers for the Oriental I ’ bellers 
somebody else. 

“ ‘ When you marry the right Butler fetch him 
along and let us see him I ’ whoops another. 

“ She faced ’em all, and I gloried in her spunk. 

“ * When I marry him I will come back,’ says 
she. ‘ And when I do you’ll have to get down on 
your knees and wait on me. You — and you — 
Yes, and yow, too! * 

“ The last two ‘ yous ’ was hove at Sim and 
Susannah. Then she turned and marched into the 
hotel. And the way them hired hands carried on 
was somethin’ scandalous — till I stepped in and 
took charge of the deck. 

“ That very afternoon I put EfEe and her trunk 
aboard the train. I paid her fare to New York 
and give her directions how to locate the Van Wed- 
derburns. 

“ ‘ So long, Effie,’ says I to her. ‘ It’s all right. 
You’re enough sight better off. All you want to 
do now is to work hard and forget all that for- 
tune-tellin’ foolishness.’ 

“ She whirled on me like a top. 

“ ‘ Forget it ! ’ she says. ‘ I guess I shan’t for- 
get it 1 It’s cornin’ true, I tell you — same as all the 
306 


EFFIE’S FATE 


rest come true. You said yourself there was ten 
thousand Butlers in the world. Some day the right 
one — the handsome, high-ranked, distinguished one 
— will come along, and Fll get him. You w ?4\^ \^n4 
see, Mr. Wingate — just you wait and see.’ ” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE HERO ” AND THE COWBOY 

S O that was the end of it, hey? ” said Captain 
Bailey. “ Well, It’s what you might expect, 
but it wa’n’t much to be so anxious to tell ; 
and as for provin* anything about fortune tellln’ — 
why ” 

“ It ain*t the end,” shouted the exasperated 
Barzilla. “ Not nigh the end. ’Twas the begin- 
nin’. The housekeeper left us that day, of course, 
and for the rest of that summer the servant ques- 
tion kept me and Jonadab from thinkin’ of other 
things. Course, the reason for the Butler scamp’s 
sudden switch was plain enough. Susannah’s law- 
yer had settled the case with the railroad and, even 
after his fee was subtracted, there was fifteen hun- 
dred left. That was enough sight better’n nine 
hundred, so Sim figgered when he heard of it; and 
he hustled to make up with his old girl. 

“ Fifteen hundred dollars doesn’t last long with 
some folks. At the beginnin’ of the next spring 
season both of ’em was round huntin’ jobs. Susan- 
nah was a fust-rate waitress, so we hired her for 
308 


THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY 


that — no more housekeeper for hers, and served 
her right. As for her husband, we took him on in 
the stable. He wouldn’t have been wuth his salt 
if it hadn’t been for her. She said she’d keep him 
movin’ and she did. She nagged and henpecked 
him till I’d have been sorry if ’twas anybody else; 
as ’twas, I got consider’ble satisfaction out of it. 

“ I got one letter from Effie pretty soon after 
she left, say in’ she liked her new job and that 
the Van Wedderburns liked her. And that’s all I 
did hear, though Bob himself wrote me in May, 
sayin’ him and Mabel, his wife, had bought a sum- 
mer cottage in Wapatomac, and me and Jonadab 
— especially me — must be sure and come to see it 
and them. He never mentioned his second girl, 
and I almost forgot her myself. 

“ But one afternoon in early July a big six- 
cylinder automobile come sailin’ down the road and 
into the Old Home House yard. A shofer — I 
b’lieve that’s what they call the tribe — was at the 
helm of it, and on the back seat, lollin’ luxurious 
against the upholstery, was a man and a woman, 
got up regardless in silk dusters and goggles and 
veils and prosperity. I never expect to see the 
Prince of Wales and his wife, but I know how 
they’d look — after seein’ them two. 

“ Jonadab was at the bottom step to welcome 
’em, bowin’ and scrapin’ as if his middle j’int had 
just been iled. I wa’n’t fur astern, and every 
boarder on deck was all eyes and envy. 

309 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ The shofer opens the door of the after cock- 
pit of the machine, and the man gets out fust, 
treadin’ gingerly but grand, as if he was doin’ the 
ground a condescension by steppin’ on it. Then he 
turns to the woman and she slides out, her duds 
rustlin’ like the wind in a scrub oak. The pair 
sails up the steps, Jonadab and me backin’ and 
fillin’ in front of ’em. All the help that could get 
to a window to peek had knocked off work to 
do it. 

“ ‘ Ahem ! ’ says the man, pompous as Julius 
Caesar — he was big and straight and fine lookin’ 
and had black side whiskers half mast on his cheeks 
— ‘ ahem 1 ’ says he. ‘ I say, good people, may we 
have dinner here ? ’ 

“ Well, they tell us time and tide waits for no 
man, but prob’ly that don’t include the nobility. 
Anyhow, although ’twas long past our reg’lar din- 
ner time, I heard Jonadab tellin’ ’em sure and sar- 
tin they could. If they wouldn’t mind settin’ on 
the piazza or in the front parlor for a spell, he’d 
have somethin’ prepared in a jiffy. So up to the 
piazza they paraded and come to anchor in a couple 
of chairs. 

“ ‘ You can have your automobile put right into 
the barn,’ I says, ‘ if you want to.’ 

“ ‘ I don’t know as it will be necessary — ’ began 
the big feller, but the woman interrupted him. She 
was starin’ through her thick veil at the barn door. 
Sim Butler, in his overalls and ragged shirt 
310 


THE “HERO’’ AND THE COWBOY 


sleeves, was leanin’ against that door, interested as 
the rest of us in what was goin’ on. 

“ ‘ I would have it put there, I think,’ says the 
woman, lofty and superior. ‘ It is rather dusty, 
and I think the wheels ought to be washed. Can 
that man be trusted to wash ’em? ’ she asks, point- 
in’ kind of scornful at Simeon. 

“ ‘ Yes, marm, I cal’late so,’ I says. ‘ Here, 
Sim ! ’ I sung out, callin’ Butler over to the steps. 
* Can you wash the dust off them wheels ? ’ 

“ He said course he could, but he didn’t act 
joyful over the job. The woman seemed some 
doubtful. 

“ ‘ He looks like a very ignorant, common per- 
son,’ says she, loud and clear, so that everybody, in- 
cludin’ the ‘ ignorant person ’ himself, could hear 
her. ‘ However, James’ll superintend. James,’ 
she orders the shofer, ‘ you see that it is well done, 
won’t you ? Make him be very careful.’ 

“ James looked Butler over from head to foot. 
‘ Humph I ’ he sniffs, contemptuous, with a kind 
of half grin on his face. ‘ Yes, marm. I’ll ’tend 
to it.’ 

“ So he steered the auto into the bam, and 
Simeon got busy. Judgin’ by the sharp language 
that drifted out through the door, ’twas plain that 
the shofer was superintendin’ all right. 

“ Jonadab heaves in sight, bowin’, and makes 
proclamation that dinner is served. The pair riz 
up majestic and headed for the dinin’ room. The 

311 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


woman was a little astern of her man, and in the 
hall she turns brisk to me. 

“ ‘ Mr. Wingate,* she whispers, ‘ Mr. Win- 
gate.’ 

“ I stared at her. Her voice had sounded sort 
of familiar ever sence I heard it, but the veil kept 
a body from seein’ what she looked like. 

“ ‘ Hey? ’ I sings out. ‘ Have I ever ’ 

“ ‘ S-s-h-h ! ’ she whispers. ‘ Say, Mr. Win- 
gate, that — that Susannah thing is here, ain’t she ? 
Have her wait on us, will you, please ? ’ 

“ And she swept the veil off her face. I choked 
up and staggered bang ! against the wall. I swan 
to man if it wa’n’t Effie 1 Effie^ in silks and automo- 
biles and gorgeousness ! 

“ Afore I could come to myself the two of ’em 
marched into that dining room. I heard a grunt 
and a ‘ Land of love ! ’ from just ahead of me. 
That was Jonadab. And from all around that din- 
in’ room come a sort of gasp and then the sound 
of whisperin’. That was the help. 

“ They took a table by the window, which had 
been made ready. Down they set like a king and a 
queen perchin’ on thrones. One of the waiter girls 
went over to ’em. 

“ But I’d come out of my trance a little mite. 
The situation was miles ahead of my brain, good- 
ness knows, but the joke of it all was gettin’ a 
grip on me. I remembered what Effie had asked 
and I spoke up prompt. 

312 


THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY 


“ ‘ Susannah/ says I, ‘ this is a particular job 
and we’re anxious to please. You’d better do the 
waitin’ yourself.’ 

“ I wish you could have seen the glare that 
ex-housekeeper give me. For a second I thought 
we’d have open mutiny. But her place wa’n’t any 
too sartin and she didn’t dare risk it. Over she 
walked to that table, and the fun began. 

“ Jonadab had laid himself out to make that 
meal a success, but they ate it as if ’twas pretty 
poor stuff and not by no means what they fed on 
every day. They found fault with ’most every- 
thing, but most especial with Susannah’s waitin’. 
My I how they did order her around — a mate on a 
cattle boat wa’n’t nothin’ to it. And when ’twas 
all over and they got up to go, Effie says, so’s all 
hands can hear : 

“ ‘ The food here is not so bad, but the serv- 
ice — oh, horrors! However, Albert,’ says she to 
the side-whiskered man, ‘ you had better give the 
girl our usual tip. She looks as if she needed it, 
poor thing I ’ 

“ Then they paraded out of the room, and 
I see Susannah sling the half dollar the man 
had left on the table clear to Jericho, it seemed 
like. 

“ The auto was waitin’ by the piazza steps. 
The shofer and Butler was standin’ by it. And 
when Sim see Effie with her veil throwed back he 
pretty nigh fell under the wheels he’d been washin’ 

21 313 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

so hard. And he looked as if he wisht they’d run 
over him. 

“ ‘ Oh, dear! ’ sighs Effie, lookin’ scornful at 
the wheels. ‘ Not half clean, just as I expected. I 
knew by the looks of that — that person that he 
wouldn’t do it well. Don’t give him much, Albert; 
he ain’t earned it.’ 

“ They climbed into the cockpit, the shofer 
took the helm, and they was ready to start. But I 
couldn’t let ’em go that way. Out I run. 

“ ‘ Say — say, Effie 1 ’ I whispers, eager. ‘ For 
the goodness’ sakes, what’s all this mean ? Is that 
your — ^your ’ 

“ ‘ My husband? Yup,’ she whispers back, her 
eyes shinin’. ‘ Didn’t I tell you to look out for 
my prophecy? Ain’t he handsome and distin- 
guished, just as I said? Good-by, Mr. Wingate; 
maybe I’ll see you again some day.’ 

“ The machinery barked and they got under 
way. I run along for two steps more. 

“ ‘ But, Effie,’ says I, ‘ tell me — is his 
name ? ’ 

“ She didn’t answer. She was watchin’ Sim 
Butler and his wife. Sim had stooped to pick up 
the quarter the Prince of Wales had hove at him. 
And that was too much for Susannah, who was 
watchin’ from the window. 

“ ‘ Don’t you touch that money ! ’ she screams. 

‘ Don’t you lay a finger on it ! Ain’t you got any 
self-respect at all, you miser’ble, low-lived — ’ and 

314 


THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY 


'50 forth and so on. All the way to the front gate 
I see Effie leanin’ out, lookin’ and listenin’ and 
smilin’. 

“ Then the machine buzzed off in a typhoon 
of dust and I went back to Jonadab, who was a 
livin’ catechism of questions which neither one of 
us could answer.” 

“So thafs the end!” exclaimed Captain 
Bailey. “ Well ” 

“ No, it ain’t the end — not even yet. Maybe 
it ought to be, but it ain’t. There’s a little more 
of it. 

“ A fortni’t later I took a couple of days off 
and went up to Wapatomac to visit the Van Wed- 
derburns, same as I’d promised. Their ‘ cottage ’ 
was pretty nigh big enough for a hotel, and was 
so grand that I, even if I did have on my Sunday 
frills, was ’most ashamed to ring the doorbell. 

“ But I did ring it, and the feller that opened 
the door was big and solemn and fine lookin’ and 
had side whiskers. Only this time he wore a tail 
coat with brass buttons on it. 

“How do you do, Mr. Wingate?’ says he. 

‘ Step right in, sir, if you please. Mr. and Mrs. 
Van Wedderbum are out in the auto, but they’ll 
be back shortly, and very glad to see you, sir, I’m 
sure. Let me take your grip and hat. Step right 
into the reception room and wait, if you please, 
sir. Perhaps,’ he says, and there was a twinkle 
in his port eye, though the rest of his face was 

315 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


sober as the front door of a church, ‘ perhaps,’ 
says he, * you might wish to speak with my wife 
a moment. Fll take the liberty of sendin* her to 
you, sir.’ 

“ So, as I sat on the gunwale of a blue and 
gold chair, tryin’ to settle whether I was really 
crazy or only just dreamin’, in bounces Effie, 
rigged up in a servant’s cap and apron. She 
looked polite and demure, but I could see she 
was just bubblin’ with the joy of the whole 
bus’ness. 

“ ‘ Effie,’ says I, * Effie, what — what in the 
world ? ’ 

“ She giggled. * Yup,’ she says, ‘ I’m cham- 
bermaid here and they treat me fine. Thank you 
very much for gettin’ me the situation.’ 

‘ But — but them doin’s the other day? 
That automobile — and them silks and satins — 
and ? ’ 

“ ‘ Mr. Van Wedderburn lent ’em to me,’ she 
said, ‘ him an’ his wife. And he lent us the auto 
and the shofer, too. I told him about my troubles 
at the Old Home House and he thought ’twould 
be a great joke for me to travel back there like 
a lady. He’s awful fond of a joke — Mr. Van 
Wedderburn is.’ 

“ ^ But that man? ’ I gasps. ‘ Your husband? 
That’s what you said he was.’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ says she, ‘ he is. We’ve been married 
’most six months now. My prophecy’s all come 
316 


THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY 


true. And didn^ t I rub it in on that Susannah 
Debs and her scamp of a Sim ? Ho I ho I ’ 

“ She clapped her hands and pretty nigh danced 
a jig» she was so tickled. 

“ ‘ But is he a Butler? ’ I asks. 

“ ‘ Yup,’ she nods, with another giggle. ‘ He’s 
a butler, though his name’s Jenkins; and a butler’s 
high rank — higher than chambermaid, anyhow. 
You see, Mr. Wingate,’ she adds, ‘ ’twas all my 
fault. When that Oriental Seer man at the show 
said I was to marry a butler, I forgot to ask him 
whether you spelt it with a big B or a little one.’ ” 
The unexpected manner in \yhich Effie’s pet 
prophecy had been fulfilled amused Captain Sol 
imm.ensely. He laughed so heartily that Issy 
McKay looked in at the door with an expression 
of alarm on his face. The depot master had 
laughed little during the past few days, and Issy 
was surprised. 

But Captain Stitt was ready with a denial. He 
claimed that the prophecy was not fulfilled and 
therefore all fortune telling was fraudulent. Bar- 
zilla retorted hotly, and the argument began again. 
The two were shouting at each other. Captain Sol 
stood it for a while and then commanded silence. 

“ Stop your yellin’ ! ” he ordered. “ What ails 
you fellers? Think you can prove it better by 
screechin’ ? They can hear you half a mile. 
There’s Cornelius Rowe standin’ gawpin’ on the 
other side of the street this minute. He thinks 

317 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


there’s a fire or a riot, one or t’other. Let’s change 
the subject. See here, Bailey, didn’t you start to 
tell us somethin’ last time you was in here about 
your ridin’ in an automobile? ” 

“ I started to — yes. But nobody’d listen. I 

rode in one and I sailed in one. You see ” 

“ I’m goin’ outdoor,” declared Barzilla. 

“ No, you’re not. Bailey listened to you. Now 
you do as much for him. I heard a little somethin’ 
about the affair at the time it happened and I’d like 
to hear the rest of it. How was it, Bailey? ” 

Captain Stitt knocked the ashes from his pipe. 
“ Well,” he began, “ I didn’t know the critter 
was weak in his top riggin’ or I wouldn’t have 
gone with him in the fust place. And he wa’n’t 
real loony, nuther. ’Twas only when he got 
aboard that — that ungodly, kerosene-smellin’, toot- 
in’, buzzin’. Old Harry’s gocart of his that the 
craziness begun to show. There’s so many of them 
weak-minded city folks from the Ocean House 
comes perusin’ ’round summers, nowadays, that I 
cal’lated he was just an average specimen, and 
never examined him close.” 

“ Are all the Ocean House boarders weak- 
minded nowadays? ” asked the depot master. 

Mr. Wingate answered the question. 

“ My land! ” he snapped; “ would they board 
at the Ocean House if they wa!n^t weak-minded? ” 
Captain Bailey did not deign to reply to this 
jibe. He continued calmly : 

318 


THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOYi 

“ This feller wa’n’t an Ocean Houser, though. 
He was young Stumpton’s automobile skipper- 
shover, or shofer, or somethin’ they called him. 
He answered to the hail of Billings, and his home 
port was the Stumpton ranch, ’way out in Mon- 
tana. He’d been here in Orham only a couple of 
weeks, havin’ come plumb across the United States 
to fetch his boss the new automobile. You see, 
’twas early October. The Stumptons had left their 
summer place on the Cliff Road, and was on their 
way South for the winter. Young Stumpton was 
up to Boston, but he was cornin’ back in a couple 
of days, and then him and the shover was gdin’ 
automobilin’ to Florida. To Florida, mind you! 
In that thing 1 If it was me I’d buy my ticket to 
Tophet direct and save time and money. 

“ Well, anyhow, this critter Billings, he ain’t 
never smelt salt water afore, and he don’t like the 
smell. He makes proclamations that Orham is 
nothin’ but sand, slush, and soft drinks. He won’t 
sail, he can’t swim, he won’t fish; but he’s hanker- 
in’ to shoot somethin’, havin’ been brought up in a 
place where if you don’t shoot some of the neigh- 
bors every day or so folks think you’re stuck up 
and dissociable. Then somebody tells him it’s the 
duckin’ season down to Setuckit P’int, and he says 
he’ll spend his day off, while the boss is away, mas- 
sycreein’ the coots there. This same somebody 
whispers that I know so much about ducks that I 
quack when I talk, and he comes cruisin’ over in 

319 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


the buzz cart to hire me for guide. And — would 
you b’lieve it? — it turns out that he’s cal’latin’ to 
make his duckin’ v’yage in that very cart. I was 
for makin’ the trip in a boat, like a sensible man, 
but he wouldn’t hear of it. 

“ ‘ Land of love ! ’ says I. ‘ Go to Setuckit in 
a automobile ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why not? ’ he says. ‘ The biscuit shooter 
up at the hotel tells me there’s a smart chance of 
folks goes there a-horseback. And where a hoss 
can travel I reckon the old gal here ’ — slappin’ the 
thwart of the auto alongside of him — ‘ can go, 
too ! ’ 

“ ‘ But there’s the Cut-through,’ says I. 

“ ‘ ’Tain’t nothin’ but a creek when the fresh- 
et’s over, they tell me,’ says he. ‘ And me and the 
boss have forded four foot of river in this very 
machine.’ 

“ By the ‘ freshet ’ bein’ over I judged he 
meant the tide bein’ out. And the Cut-through 
ain’t but a little trickle then, though it’s a quarter 
mile wide and deep enough to float a schooner at 
high water. It’s the strip of channel that makes 
Setuckit Beach an island, you know. The gov’- 
ment has had engineers down dredgin’ of it out, 
and pretty soon fish boats’ll be able to save the 
twenty-mile sail around the P’int and into Orham 
Harbor at all hours. 

“ Well, to make a long story short, I agreed 
!to let him cart me to Setuckit P’int in that ever- 
320 


THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY 


lastin’ gas carryall. We was to start at four o’clock 
in the afternoon, ’cause the tide at the Cut-through 
would be dead low at half-past four. We’d stay 
overnight at my shanty at the P’int, get up airly, 
shoot all day, and come back the next afternoon. 

“ At four prompt he was on hand, ready for 
me. I loaded in the guns and grub and one thing 
or ’nother, and then ’twas time for me to get aboard 
myself. 

“ ‘ You’ll set in the tonneau,’ says he, indicatin’ 
the upholstered after cockpit of the concern. I 
opened up the shiny hatch, under orders from him, 
and climbed in among the upholstery. ’Twas soft 
as a feather bed. 

“‘Jerushy!’ says I, lollin’ back luxurious. 
‘ This is fine, ain’t it? ’ 

“ ‘ Cost seventy-five hundred to build,’ he says 
casual. ‘ Made to order for the boss. Lightest car 
of her speed ever turned out.’ 

“ ‘ Go ’way ! How you talk ! Seventy-five hun- 
dred what? Not dollars?’ 

“ ‘ Sure,’ he says. Then he turns round — he 
was in the bow, bangin’ on to the steerin’ wheel — 
and looks me over, kind of interested, but superior. 
‘ Say,’ he says, ‘ I’ve been bearin’ things about you. 
You’re a hero, ain’t you? ’ 

“ Burn them Orham gabblers! Ever sence I 
hauled that crew of seasick summer boarders out 
of the drink a couple of years ago and the gov’- 
ment gave me a medal, the minister and some more 
321 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


of his gang have painted out the name I was 
launched under and had me entered on the ship- 
pin’ list as ‘ The Hero.’ I’ve licked two or three 
for callin’ me that, but I can’t lick a parson, and he 
was the one that told Billings. 

“ ‘ Oh, I don’t know ! ’ I answers pretty sharp. 
‘ Get her under way, why don’t you ? ’ 

“ All he done was look me over some more 
and grin. 

“ ‘ A hero I A real live gov’ment-branded 
hero ! ’ he says. ‘ Ain’t scared of nothin’, I reckon 
— hey ? ’ 

“ I never made no answer. There’s some 
things that’s too fresh to eat without salt, and I 
didn’t have a pickle tub handy. 

“ ‘ Hum ! ’ he says again, reverend-like. ‘ A 
sure hero; scared of nothin’! Never rode in an 
auto afore, did you ? ’ 

“ ‘ No,’ says I, peppery; ‘ and I don’t see no 
present symptom of ridin’ in one now. Cast off, 
won’t you ? ’ 

“ He cast off. That is to say, he hauled 
a nickel-plated marlinespike thing toward him, 
shoved another one away from him, took a twist 
on the steerin’ wheel, the gocart coughed like a 
horse with the heaves, started up some sort of buzz- 
planer underneath, and then we begun to move. 

“ From the time we left my shanty at South 
Orham till we passed the pines at Herrin’ Neck I 
laid back in that stuffed cockpit, feelin’ as grand 
322 


THE “HERO” AND THE COWBOY 


and tainted as old John D. himself. The automo- 
bile rolled along smooth but swift, and it seemed to 
me I had never known what easy trav’lin’ was 
afore. As we rounded the bend by the pines and 
opened up the twelve-mile narrow white stretch of 
Setuckit Beach ahead of us, with the ocean on one 
side and the bay on t’other, I looked at my watch. 
We’d come that fur in thirteen minutes. 

“ ‘ Land sakes ! ’ I says. ‘ This is what I call 
movin’ right along 1 ’ 

“ He turned round and sized me up again, like 
he was surprised. 

“ ‘ Movin’ ? ’ says he. ‘ Movin’ ? Why, pard, 
we’ve been settin’ down to rest! Out our way, if 
a lynchin’ party didn’t move faster than we’ve done 
so fur, the center of attraction would die on the 
road of old age. Now, my heroic college chum,’ 
he goes on, callin’ me out of my name, as usual, 
‘ will you be so condescendin’ as to indicate how we 
hit the trail?’ 

“ ‘ Hit — hit which? Don’t hit nothin’, for 
goodness’ sake ! Coin’ the way we be, it 
would ’ 

“ ‘ Which way do we go? ’ 

“ ‘ Right straight ahead. Keep on the ocean 
side, ’cause there’s more hard sand there, and — 
hold on 1 Don’t do that 1 Stop it, I tell, you 1 ’ 

“ Them was the last rememberable words said 
by me durin’ the next quarter of an hour. That 
shover man let out a hair-raisin’ yell, hauled the 

323 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


nickel marlinespike over in its rack, and squeezed 
a rubber bag that was spliced to the steerin’ wheel. 
There was a half dozen toots or howls or honks 
from under our bows somewheres, and then that 
automobile hopped off the ground and commenced 
to fly. The fust hop landed me on my knees in the 
cockpit, and there I stayed. ’Twas the most fittin’ 
position fur my frame of mind and chimed in fust- 
rate with the general religious drift of my 
thoughts. 

“ The Cut-through is two mile or more from 
Herrin’ Neck. ’Cordin’ to my count we hit terra 
cotta just three times in them two miles. The fust 
hit knocked my hat off. The second one chucked 
me up so high I looked back for the hat, and 
though we was a half mile away from it, it hadn’t 
had time to git to the ground. And all the while 
the horn was a-honkin’, and Billings was a-screech- 
in’, and the sand was a-flyin’. Sand! Why, say! 
Do you see that extra bald place on the back of 
my head? Yes? Well, there was a two-inch 
thatch of hair there afore that sand blast ground 
it off. 

“ When I went up on the third jounce I no- 
ticed the Cut-through just ahead. Billings see it, 
too, and — ^would you b’lieve it ? — the lunatic stood 
up, let go of the wheel with one hand, takes off his 
hat and waves it, and we charge down across them 
wet tide flats like death on the woolly horse, in 
Scriptur’. 


324 


THE “ HERO ’’ AND THE COWBOY ' 


“ ‘ Hi, yah ! Yip ! ’ whoops Billings. ‘ Come 
on in, fellers ! The water’s fine ! Yow! Y-e-e-el 
Yip!’ 

“ For a second it left off rainin’ sand, and there 
was a typhoon of mud and spray. I see a million 
of the prettiest rainbows — that is, I cal’lated there 
was a million; it’s awful hard to count when you’re 
bouncin’ and prayin’ and drowndin’ all to once. 
Then we sizzed out of the channel, over the flats 
on t’other side, and on toward Setuckit. 

“ Never mind the rest of the ride. ’Twas all 
a sort of constant changin’ sameness. I remember 
passin’ a blurred life-savin’ station, with three — or 
maybe thirty — blurred men jumpin’ and laughin’ 
and hollerin’. I found out afterwards that they’d 
been on the lookout for the bombshell for half an 
hour. Billings had told around town what he was 
goin’ to do to me, and some kind friend had tele- 
phoned it to the station. So the life-savers was 
full of anticipations. I hope they were satisfied. 
I hadn’t rehearsed my part of the show none, but I 
feel what the parson calls a consciousness of havin’ 
done my best. 

“ ‘ Whoa, gal 1 ’ says Billings, calm and easy, 
puttin’ the helm hard down. The auto was stand- 
in’ still at last. Part of me was hangin’ over the 
lee rail. I could see out of the part, so I knew 
’twas my head. And there alongside was my fish 
shanty at the P’int, goin’ round and round in cir- 
cles. 


325 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ I undid the hatch of the cockpit and fell out 
on the sand. Then I scrambled up and caught hold 
of the shanty as it went past me. That fool shover 
watched me, seemin’ly interested. 

“ ‘Why, pard,’ says he, ‘what’s the matter? 
Do you feel pale? Are you nervous? It ain’t 
possible that you’re scared? Honest, now, pard, if 
it weren’t that I knew you were a genuine gold* 
mounted hero I’d sure think you was a scared man.’ 

“ I never said nothin’. The scenery and me 
was just turnin’ the mark buoy on our fourth lap. 

“‘Dear me, pard!’ continues Billings. ‘I 
sure hope I ain’t scared you none. We come dowm 
a little slow this evenin’, but to-morrow night, 
when I take you back home, I’ll let the old girl out 
a little.’ 

“ I sensed some of that. And as the shanty had 
about come to anchor, I answered and spoke my 
mind. 

“ ‘ When you take me back home ! ’ I says. 
‘ When you do 1 Why, you crack-brained, mur- 
derin’ lunatic, I wouldn’t cruise in that hell wagon 
of yours again for the skipper’s wages on a Cu- 
narder. No, nor the mate’s hove in! ’ 

“ And that shover he put his head back and 
laughed and laughed and laughed.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 

I DON’T wonder he laughed,” observed Win- 
gate, who seemed to enjoy irritating his 
friend. “ You must have been good as a 
circus.” 

“ Humph! ” grunted the depot master. ‘‘ If I 
remember right you said you wa’n’t any ten-cent 
side show under similar circumstances, Barzilla. 
Heave ahead, Bailey 1 ” 

Captain Stitt, unruffled, resumed: 

“ I tell you, I had to take it that evenin’,” he 
said. “ All the time I was cookin’ and while he 
was eatin’ supper, Billings was rubbin’ it into me 
about my bein’ scared. Called me all the salt- 
water-hero names he could think of — ‘ Hobson ’ 
and ‘ Dewey ’ and the like of that, usin’ ’em sar- 
castic, of course. Finally, he said he remembered 
readin’ in school, when he was little, about a girl 
\ hero, name of Grace Darlin’. Said he cal’lated, if 
I didn’t mind, he’d call me Grace, ’cause it was 
heroic and yet kind of fitted in with my partic’lar 
brand of bravery. I didn’t answer much; he had 

327 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


me down, and I knew it. Likewise I judged he 
was more or less out of his head; no sane man 
would yell the way he done aboard that automo- 
bile. 

“ Then he commenced to spin yarns about him- 
self and his doin’s, and pretty soon it come out 
that he’d been a cowboy afore young Stumpton 
give up ranchin’ and took to automobilin’. That 
cleared the sky line some, of course; I’d read con- 
sider’ble about cowboys in the ten-cent books my 
nephew fetched home when he was away to school. 
I see right off that Billings was the livin’ image of 
Deadwood Dick and Wild Bill and the rest in 
them books; they yelled and howled and hadn’t 
no regard for life and property any more’n he 
had. No, sir! He wa’n’t no crazier’n they was; 
it was in the breed, I judged. 

“ ‘ I sure wish I had you on the ranch, Grace,’ 
says he. ‘ Why don’t you come West some day? 
That’s where a hero like you would show up 
strong.’ 

“ ‘ Godfrey mighty ! ’ I sings out. ‘ I wouldn’t 
come nigh such a nest of crazy murderers as that 
fur no money! I’d sooner ride in that automo- 
bile of yours, and St. Peter himself couldn’t coax 
me into that again, not if ’twas fur a cruise plumb 
up the middle of the golden street ! ’ 

“ I meant it, too, and the next afternoon when 
it come time to start for home he found out that I 
meant it. We’d shot a lot of ducks, and Billings 
328 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 


was havin’ such a good time that I had to coax and 
tease him as if he was a young one afore he’d 
think of quittin’. It was quarter of six when he 
backed the gas cart out of the shed. I was uneasy, 
’cause ’twas past low-water time, and there was 
fog cornin’ on. 

“ ‘ Brace up, Dewey ! ’ says he. ‘ Get in.’ 

“ ‘ No, Mr. Billings,’ says 1. ‘ I ain’t goin’ 

to get in. You take that craft of youm home, 
and I’ll sail up alongside in my dory.’ 

“ ‘ In your which? ’ says he. 

“ ‘ In my dory,’ I says. ‘ That’s her hauled 
up on the beach abreast the shanty.’ 

“ He looked at the dory and then at me. 

“ ‘ Go on ! ’ says he. ‘ You ain’t goin’ to pack 
yourself twelve mile on that shingle? ’ 

“ ‘ Sartin I am ! ’ says I. ‘ I ain’t takin’ no 
more chances.’ 

“ Do you know, he actually seemed to think I 
was crazy then. Seemed to figger that the dory 
wa’n’t big enough; and she’s carried five easy afore 
now. We had an argument that lasted twenty 
minutes more, and the fog driftin’ in nigher all 
the time. At last he got sick of arguin’, ripped out 
somethin’ brisk and personal, and got his tin shop 
to movin’. 

“ ‘ You want to cross over to the ocean side,’ 
I called after him. ‘ The Cut-through’s been 
dredged at the bay end, remember.’ 

“ ‘ Be hanged ! ’ he yells, or more emphatic. 

23 329 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


And off he whizzed. I see him go, and fetched a 
long breath. Thanks to a merciful Providence, 
Pd come so fur without bein’ buttered on the un- 
dercrust of that automobile or scalped with its 
crazy shover’s bowie knife. 

“ Ten minutes later I was beatin’ out into the 
bay in my dory. All around was the fog, thin as 
poorhouse gruel so fur, but thickenin’ every min- 
ute. I was worried; not for myself, you under- 
stand, but for that cowboy shover. I was afraid 
he wouldn’t fetch t’other side of the Cut-through. 
There wa’n’t much wind, and I had to make long 
tacks. I took the inshore channel, and kept listen- 
in’ all the time. And at last, when ’twas pretty 
dark and I was cal’latin’ to be about abreast of the 
bay end of the Cut-through, I heard from some- 
wheres ashore a dismal honkin’ kind of noise, same 
as a wild goose might make if ’twas chokin’ to 
death and not resigned to the worst. 

“ ‘ My land! ’ says 1. ‘ It’s happened! ’ And 
I come about and headed straight in for the beach. 
I struck it just alongside the gov’ment shanty. 
The engineers had knocked off work for the week, 
waitin’ for supplies, but they hadn’t took away 
their dunnage. 

“ ‘ Hi ! ’ I yells, as I hauled up the dory. 
‘ Hi-i-i ! Billings, w^here be you ? ’ 

“ The honkin’ stopped and back comes the an- 
swer; there was joy in it. 

“‘What? Is that Cap’n Stitt?’ 

330 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 


“ ‘ Yes/ I sings out. ‘ Where be you? ’ 

“ ‘ Fm stuck out here in the middle of the 
crick. And there’s a flood on. Help me, can’t 
you ? ’ 

“ Next minute I was aboard the dory, rowin’ 
her against the tide up the channel. Pretty quick 
I got where I could see him through the fog and 
dark. The auto was on the flat in the middle of 
the Cut-through, and the water was hub high al- 
ready. Billings was standin’ up on the for’ard 
thwart, makin’ wet footmarks all over them ex- 
pensive cushions. 

“ ‘ Lord,’ says he, ‘ I sure am glad to see you, 
pard! Can we get to land, do you think? ’ 

“ ‘ Land? ’ says I, makin’ the dory fast along- 
side and hoppin’ out into the drink. ‘ Course we 
can land I What’s the matter with your old dere- 
lict? Sprung a leak, has it? ’ 

“ He went on to explain that the automo- 
bile had broke down when he struck the flat, and 
he couldn’t get no farther. He’d been honkin’ 
and howlin’ for ten year at least, so he reck- 
oned. 

“ ‘ Why in time,’ says I, ‘ didn’t you mind me 
and go up the ocean side? And why in nation 
didn’t you go ashore and — But never mind that 
now. Let me think. Llere! You set where 
you be.’ 

“ As I shoved off in the dory again he turned 
loose a distress signal. 


331 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ‘ Where you goln’ ? ’ he yells. ‘ Say, pard, 
you ain’t goin’ to leave me here, are you ? ’ 

“ ‘ I’ll be back in a shake,’ says I, layin’ to my 
oars. ‘ Don’t holler so I You’ll have the life- 
savers down here, and then the joke’ll be on us. 
Hush, can’t you? I’ll be right back! ’ 

I rowed up channel a little ways, and then 
I sighted the place I was bound for. Them gov’- 
ment folks had another shanty farther up the Cut- 
through. Moored out in front of it was a couple of 
big floats, for their stone sloops to tie up to at high 
water. The floats were made of empty kerosene 
barrels and planks, and they’d have held up a house 
easy. I run alongside the fust one, cut the anchor 
cable with my jackknife, and next minute I was 
navigatin’ that float down channel, steerin’ it with 
my oar and towin’ the dory astern. 

“ ’Twas no slouch of a job, pilotin’ that big 
float, but part by steerin’ and part by polin’ I man- 
aged to land her broadside on to the auto. I made 
her fast with the cable ends and went back after 
the other float. This one was a bigger job than 
the fust, but by and by that gas wagon, with planks 
under her and cable lashin’s holdin’ her firm, was 
restin’ easy as a settin’ hen between them two floats. 
I unshipped my mast, fetched it aboard the nighest 
float, and spread the sail over the biggest part of 
the brasswork and upholstery. 

“ ‘ There,’ says I, ‘ if it rains durin’ the night 
she’ll keep pretty dry. Now I’ll take the dory and 

332 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 


row back to the shanty after some spare anchors 
there is there.’ 

“ ‘ But what’s it fur, pard? ’ asks Billings for 
the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time. ‘ Why 
don’t we go where it’s dry? The flood’s risin’ all 
the time.’ 

“ ‘ Let it rise,’ I says. ‘ I cal’late when it gets 
high enough them floats’ll rise with it and lift the 
automobile up, too. If she’s anchored bow and 
stern she’ll hold, unless it comes on to blow a gale, 
and to-morrow mornin’ at low tide maybe you can 
tinker her up so she’ll go.’ 

“ ‘ Go ? ’ says he, like he was astonished. ‘ Do 
you mean to say you’re reckonin’ to save the car f * 

“ ‘ Good land ! ’ I says, starin’ at him. ‘ What 
else d’you s’pose? Think I’d let seventy-five hun- 
dred dollars’ wuth of gilt-edged extravagance go 
to the bottom ? What did you cal’late I was tryin* 
to save — the clam flat? Give me that dory rope; 
I’m goin’ after them anchors. Sufferin’ snakes! 
Where is the dory? What have you done with 
it?’ 

“ He’d been holdin’ the bight of the dory 
rodin’. I handed it to him so’s he’d have some- 
thin’ to take up his mind. And, by time, he’d 
forgot all about it and let it drop 1 And the dory 
had gone adrift and was out of sight. 

“ ‘ Gosh I ’ says he, astonished-like. * Pard, the 
son of a gun has slipped his halter 1 ’ 

“ I was pretty mad — dories don’t grow on 

333 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


every beach plum bush — ^but there wa’n’t nothin’ 
to say that fitted the case, so I didn’t try. 

‘‘ ‘ Humph ! ’ says I. ‘ Well, I’ll have to swim 
ashore, that’s all, and go up to the station inlet 
after another boat. You stand by the ship. If 
she gets afloat afore I come back you honk and 
holler and I’ll row after you. I’ll fetch the an- 
chors and we’ll moor her wherever she happens to 
be. If she shouldn’t float on an even keel, or goes 
to capsize, you jump overboard and swim ashore. 
I’ll ’ 

“ ‘ Swim? ’ says he, with a shake in his voice. 
‘ Why, pard, I can’t swim I * 

“ I turned and looked at him. Shover of a 
two-mile-a-mlnute gold-plated butcher cart like 
that, a cowboy murderer that et his friends for 
breakfast — and couldn’t swim! I fetched a kind 
of combination groan and sigh, turned back the 
sail, climbed aboard the automobile, and lit up my 
pipe. 

** ‘What are you settin’ there for?’ says he. 
* What are you goin’ to do ? ’ 

“ ‘ Do? ’ says I. ‘ Wait, that’s all — ^wait and 
smoke. We won’t have to wait long.’ 

“ My prophesyin’ was good. We didn’t have 
to wait very long. It was pitch dark, foggy as 
ever, and the tide a-risin’ fast. The floats got to 
be a-wash. I shinned out onto ’em, picked up the 
oar that had been left there, and took my seat 
again. Billings climbed In, too, only — and it kind 
334 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 

of shows the change sence the previous evenin’ — 
he was in the passenger cockpit astern, and I was 
for’ard in the pilot house. For a reckless dare- 
devil he was actin’ mighty fidgety. 

“ And at last one of the floats swung off the 
sand. The automobile tipped scandalous. It 
looked as if we was goin’ on our beam ends. Bill- 
ings let out an awful yell. Then t’other float 
bobbed up and the whole shebang, car and all, 
drifted out and down the channel. 

“ My lashin’s held — I cal’lated they would. 
Soon’s I was sure of that I grabbed up the oar and 
shoved it over the stern between the floats. I 
hoped I could round her to after we passed the 
■mouth of the Cut-through, and make port on the 
inside beach. But not in that tide. Inside of five 
minutes I see ’twas no use; we was bound across 
the bay. 

“ And now commenced a v’yage that beat any 
ever took sence Noah’s time, I cal’late; and even 
Noah never went to sea in an automobile, though 
the one animal I had along was as much trouble as 
his whole menagerie. Billings was howlin’ blue 
murder. 

“ ‘ Stop that bellerin’ ! ’ I ordered. ‘ Quit it, 
d’you hear! You’ll have the station crew out after 
us, and they’ll guy me till I can’t rest. Shut up! 
If you don’t. I’ll — I’ll swim ashore and leave 
you.’ 

“ I was takin’ big chances, as I look at it now. 

335 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


He might have drawed a bowle knife or a lasso on 
me; ’cordin’ to his yarns he’d butchered folks for 
a good sight less’n that. Buf he kept quiet this 
time, only gurglin’ some when the ark tilted. I 
had time to think of another Idee. You remember 
the dory sail, mast and all, was alongside that cart. 
I clewed up the canvas well as I could and man- 
aged to lash the mast up straight over the auto’s 
bows. Then I shook out the sail. 

“‘Here!’ says I, turnin’ to Billings. ‘You 
hang on to that sheet. No, you needn’t nuther. 
Make It fast to that cleat alongside.’ 

“ I couldn’t see his face plain, but his voice had 
a funny tremble to it; reminded me of my own 
when I climbed out of that very cart after he’d 
jounced me down to Setuckit the day before. 

“ ‘ What? ’ he says. ‘ Wh-what? What sheet? 
I don’t see any sheet. What do you want me to 
do?’ 

“ ‘ Tie this line to that cleat. That cleat there I 
Cleats you lubber! Cleat! That knob! Make 
it fast! Oh, my gosh t’mighty! Get out of my 
way ! ’ 

“ The critter had tied the sheet to the handle 
of the door Instead of the one I meant, and the 
pull of the sail hauled the door open and pretty 
nigh ripped It off the hinges. I had to climb Into 
the cockpit and straighten out the mess. I was 
losin’ my temper; I do hate bunglin’ seamanship 
aboard a craft of mine. 

336 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 


“ ‘ But what’ll become of us? ’ begs Billings. 
* Will we drown ? ’ 

“ ‘ What in tunket do we want to drown for? 
Ain’t we got a good sailin’ breeze and the whole 
bay to stay on top of — fifty foot of water and 
more ? ’ 

“ ‘ Fifty foot! ’ he yells. ‘ Is there fifty foot 
of water underneath us now? Pard, you don’t 
mean it I ’ 

“ ‘ Course I mean it. Good thing, too I ’ 

“ ‘ But fifty foot 1 It’s enough to drown in ten 
times over I * 

“ ‘ Can’t drown but once, can you ? And I’d 
just as soon drown in fifty foot as four — ruther, 
’cause ’twouldn’t take so long.’ 

“ He didn’t answer out loud; but I heard him 
talkin’ to himself pretty constant. 

“We was well out in the bay by now, and the 
seas was a little mite more rugged — nothin’ to 
hurt, you understand, but the floats was all foam, 
and once in a while we’d ship a little spray. And 
every time that happened Billings would jump and 
grab for somethin’ solid — sometimes ’twas the up- 
holstery and sometimes ’twas me. He wa’n’t on 
the thwart, but down in a heap on the cockpit floor. 

“ ‘ Let go of my leg! ’ I sings out, after we’d 
hit a high wave and that shover had made a 
more’n ordinary savage claw at my underpinnin’. 
‘ You make me nervous. Drat this everlastin’ fog ! 
Somethin’ll bump into us if we don’t look out. 
337 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


Here, you go for’ard and light them cruisin’ lights. 
They ain’t colored ’cordin’ to regulations, but 
they’ll have to do. Go for’ard ! What you wait- 
in’ for? ’ 

‘‘Well, it turned out that he didn’t like to 
leave that cockpit. I was mad. 

“ ‘ Go for’ard there and light them lights 1 ’ I 
yelled, hangin’ to the steerin’ oar and keepin’ the 
ark runnin’ afore the wind. 

“ ‘ I won’t ! ’ he says, loud and emphatic. 
‘Think I’m a blame fool? I sure would be a 
jack rabbit to climb over them seats the way they’re 
buckin’ and light them lamps. You’re talkin’ 
through your hat I ’ 

“ Well, I hadn’t no business to do it, but, you 
see, I was on salt water, and skipper, as you might 
say, of the junk we was afloat in; and if there’s 
one thing I never would stand it’s mutiny. I 
hauled in the oar, jumped over the cockpit rail, and 
went for him. He see me cornin’, stood up, tried 
to get out of the way, and fell overboard back- 
wards, Part of him lit on one of the floats, but 
the biggest part trailed in the water between the 
two. He clawed with his hands, but the planks 
was slippery, and he slid astern fast. Just as he 
reached the last plank and slid off and under I 
jumped after him and got him by the scruff of the 
neck. I had hold of the lashin’ end with one hand, 
and we tailed out behind the ark, which was slop- 
pin’ along, graceful as an elephant on skates. 

338 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 


“ I was pretty well beat out when I yanked 
him into that cockpit again. Neither of us said 
anything for a spell, breath bein’ scurce as 
diamonds. But when he’d collected some of his, 
he spoke. 

“ ‘ Pard,’ he says, puffin’, ‘ I’m much obleeged 
to you. I reckon I sure ain’t treated you right. 
If it hadn’t been for you that time I’d ’ 

“ But I was b’ilin’ over. I whirled on him like 
a teetotum. 

“ ‘ Drat your hide ! ’ I says. ‘ When you speak 
to your officer you say sir ! And now you go for’- 
ard and light them lights. Don’t you answer back I 
If you do I’ll fix you so’s you’ll never ship aboard 
another vessel! For’ard there! Lively, you lub- 
ber, lively ! ’ 

“ He went for’ard, takin’ consider’ble time and 
bangin’ on for dear life. But somehow or ’nuthcr 
he got the lights to goin’ ; and all the time I hazed 
him terrible. I was mate on an Australian packet 
afore I went fishin’ to the Banks, and I can haze 
some. I blackguarded that shover awful. 

“ ‘ Ripperty-rip your everlastin’ blankety- 
blanked dough head ! ’ I roared at him. ‘ You ain’t 
wuth the weight to sink you. For’ard there and 
get that fog horn to goin’ ! And keep it goin’ ! 
Lively, you sculpin ! Don’t you open your mouth 
to me ! ’ 

“ Well, all night we sloshed along, straight 
acrost the bay. We must have been a curious sight 
339 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


to look at. The floats was awash, so that the 
automobile looked like she was ridin’ the waves 
all by her lonesome ; the lamps was blazin’ at either 
side of the bow; Billings was a-tootin’ the rubber 
fog horn as if he was wound up ; and I was standin’ 
on the cushions amidships, keepin’ the whole cala- 
bash afore the wind. 

“We never met another craft the whole night 
through. Yes, we did meet one. Old Ezra Ga- 
boon, of Harniss, was out in his dory stealin’ qua- 
haugs from Seth Andrews’s bed over nigh the 
Wapatomac shore. Ezra stayed long enough to 
get one good glimpse of us as we bust through the 
fog; then he cut his rodin’ and laid to his oars, 
bound for home and mother. We could hear him 
screech for half an hour after he left us. 

“ Ez told next day that the devil had come 
ridin’ acrost the bay after him in a chariot of fire. 
Said he could smell the brimstone and hear the 
trumpet callin’ him to judgment. Likewise he 
hove in a lot of particulars concernin’ the personal 
appearance of the Old Boy himself, who, he said, 
was standin’ up wavin’ a red-hot pitchfork. Some 
folks might have been flattered at bein’ took for 
such a famous character; but I wa’n’t; I’m retir- 
in’ by nature, and besides, Ez’s description wa’n’t 
cal’lated to bust a body’s vanity b’iler. I was 
prouder of the consequences, the same bein’ that 
Ezra signed the Good Templars’ pledge that 
afternoon, and kept it for three whole months, just 

340 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 


sixty-nine days longer than any previous attack 
within the memory of man had lasted. 

“ And finally, just as mornin’ was breaking the 
bows of the floats slid easy and slick up on a hard, 
sandy beach. Then the sun riz and the fog lifted, 
and there we was within sight of the South Ostable 
meetin’-house. We’d sailed eighteen miles in that 
ark and made a better landin’ blindfold than we 
ever could have made on purpose. 

I hauled down the sail, unshipped the mast, 
and jumped ashore to find a rock big enough to use 
for a makeshift anchor. It wa’n’t more’n three 
minutes after we fust struck afore my boots hit dry 
ground, but Billings beat me one hundred and sev- 
enty seconds, at that. When I had time to look at 
that shover man he was a cable’s length from high- 
tide mark, settin’ down and grippin’ a bunch of 
beach grass as if he was afeard the sand was 
goin’ to slide from under him; and you never 
seen a yallerer, more upset critter in your born 
days. 

“ Well, I got the ark anchored, after a fash- 
ion, and then we walked up to the South Ostable 
tavern. Peleg Small, who runs the place, he knows 
me, so he let me have a room and I turned in for a 
nap. I slept about three hours. When I woke up 
I started out to hunt the automobile and Billings. 
Both of ’em looked consider’ble better than they 
had when I see ’em last. The shover had got a 
gang of men and they’d got the gas cart ashore, 

341 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


and Billings and a blacksmith was workin’ over — 
or rather under — the clockwork. 

“ ‘ Hello ! ’ I hails, cornin’ alongside. 

“ Billings sticks his head out from under the 
tinware. 

“ ‘ Hi, pard ! ’ says he. I noticed he hadn’t 
called me ‘ Grace ’ nor ‘ Dewey ’ for a long spell. 
* Hi, pard,’ he says, gettin’ to his feet, ‘ the old 
gal ain’t hurt a hair. She’ll be good as ever in a 
couple of hours. Then you and me can start for 
Orham.’ 

“‘In herf^ says 1. 

“ ‘ Sure,’ he says. 

“ ‘ Not by a jugful ! ’ says I, emphatic. ‘ I’ll 
borrer a boat to get to Orham in, when I’m ready 
to go. You won’t ketch me in that man killer 
again ; and you can call me a coward all you want 
to I ’ 

“‘A coward?’ says he. ‘You a coward? 
And — Why, you was in that car all night I ’ 

“ ‘ Oh I ’ I says. ‘ Last night was diff’rent. 
The thing was on water then, and when I’ve got 
enough water underneath me I know I’m safe.’ 

“ ‘ Safe ! ’ he sings out. ' Safe! Well, by— 
gosh ! Pard, I hate to say it, but it’s the Lord’s 
truth — ^you had me doin’ my “ Now I lay me’s ” ! ’ 

“ For a minute we looked at each other. Then 
says I, sort of thinkin’ out loud, ‘ I cal’late,’ I says, 
‘ that whether a man’s brave or not depends con- 
sider’ble on whether he’s used to his latitude. It’s 

342 


THE CRUISE OF THE RED CAR 


all accordin’. It lays in the bringin’ up, as the 
duck said when the hen tried to swim.’ 

“ He nodded solemn. ‘ Pard,’ says he, * I sure 
reckon you’ve called the turn. Let’s shake hands 
on it’ 

“ So we shook ; and . . .” 

Captain Bailey stopped short and sprang from 
his chair. “ There’s my train cornin’,” he shouted. 
“Good-by, Sol! So long, Barzilla! Keep away 
from fortune tellers and pretty servant girls or 
you^ll be gettin’ married pretty soon. Good-by.” 

He darted out of the waiting room and his 
companions followed. Mr. Wingate, having a 
few final calls to make, left the station soon after- 
wards and did not return until evening. And that 
evening he heard news which surprised him. 

As he and Captain Sol were exchanging a last 
handshake on the platform, Barzilla said: 

“Well, Sol, I’ve enjoyed loafin’ around here 
and yarnin’ with you, same as I always do. I’ll be 
over again in a month or so and we’ll have some 
more.” 

The Captain shook his head. “ I may not be 
here then, Barzilla,” he observed. 

“ May not be here? What do you mean by 
that?” 

“ I mean that I don’t know exactly where I 
shall be. I shan’t be depot master, anyway.” 

“ Shan’t be depot master? You won’t? Why, 
what on airth ” 


343 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ I sent in my resignation four days ago. No- 
body knows it, except you, not even Issy, but the 
new depot master for East Harniss will be here to 
take my place on the mornin’ of the twelfth, that’s 
two days off.” 

“Why! Why! Sol! 

“ Yes. Keep mum about it. I’ll — I’ll let you 
know what I decide to do. I ain’t settled it myself 
yet. Good-by, Barzilla.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


issy’s revenge 

T he following morning, at nine o’clock, 
Issy McKay sat upon the heap of rusty 
chain cable outside the blacksmith’s shop 
at Denboro, reading, as usual, a love story. Issy 
was taking a “ day off.” He had begged permis- 
sion of Captain Sol Berry, the permission had been 
granted, and Issy had come over to Denboro, the 
village eight miles above East Harniss, in his 
“ power dory,” or gasoline boat, the Lady May. 
The Lady May was a relic of the time before Issy 
was assistant depot master, when he gained a pre- 
carious living by quahauging, separating the reluc- 
tant bivalve from its muddy house on the bay 
bottom with an iron rake, the handle of which was 
forty feet long. Issy had been seized with a de- 
sire to try quahauging once more, hence his 
holiday. The rake was broken and he had put in 
at Denboro to have it fixed. While the black- 
smith was busy, Issy laboriously spelled out the 
harrowing chapters of “ Vivian, the Shop Girl; or 
Lord Lyndhurst’s Lowly Love.” 

23 345 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


A grinning, freckled face peered cautiously 
around the corner of the blacksmith’s front fence. 
Then an overripe potato whizzed through the aif 
and burst against the shop wall a few inches from 
the reader’s head. Issy jumped. 

“ You — ^you everlastin’ young ones, you ! ” he 
shouted fiercely. “ If I git my hands onto you, 
you’ll wish you’d — I see you hidin’ behind that 
fence.” 

Two barefooted little figures danced provok- 
ingly in the roadway and two shrill voices chanted 
in derision : 

‘‘Is McKay — Is McKay — 

Makes the Injuns run away! 

Scalped anybody lately, Issy? ” 

Alas for the indiscretions of youth I The tale 
of Issy’s early expedition in search of scalps and 
glory was known from one end of Ostable County 
to the other. It had made him famous, in a way. 

“ If I git a-holt of you kids. I’ll bet there’ll be 
some scalpin’ done,” retorted the persecuted one, 
rising from the heap of cable. 

A second potato burst like a bombshell on the 
shingles behind him. McKay was a good general, 
in that he knew when it was wisest to retreat. 
Shoving the paper novel into his overalls pocket, 
he entered the shop. 

“What’s the matter. Is?” inquired the grin- 
ning blacksmith. Most people grinned when they 

346 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


spoke to Issy. “ Gittin’ too hot outside there, was 
it ? Why don’t you tomahawk ’em and have ’em 
for supper? ” 

“ Humph! ” grunted the offended quahauger. 
“ Don’t git gay now, Jake Larkin. You hurry up 
with that rake.” 

“ Oh, all right. Is. Don’t sculp me; I ain’t 
done nothin’. What’s the news over to East Har- 
niss?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. Not much. Sam Bart- 
lett, he started for Boston this momin’.” 

“Who? Sam Bartlett? I want to know! 
Thought he was down for six weeks. You sure 
about that. Is? ” 

“ Course I’m sure. I was up to the depot and 
see him buy his ticket and git on the cars.” 

“ Did, hey ? Humph ! So Sam’s gone. Ger- 
tie Higgins still over to her Aunt Hannah’s at 
Trumet? ” 

Issy looked at his questioner. “ Why, yes,” 
he said suspiciously. “ I s’pose she’s there. Fact, 
I know she is. Pat Starkey’s doin’ the telegraphin’ 
wLile she’s away. What made you ask that? ” 

The blacksmith chuckled. “ Oh, nothin’,” he 
said. “ How’s her dad’s dyspepsy? Had any 
more of them sudden attacks of his? I cal’late 
they’ll take the old man off some of these days, 
won’t they ? I hear the doctor thinks there’s more 
heart than stomach in them attacks.” 

But the skipper of the Lady May was not to 
347 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


be put off thus. “What you drivin’ at, Jake?” 
he demanded. “ What’s Sam Bartlett’s goin’ 
away got to do with Gertie Higgins ? ” 

In his eagerness he stepped to Mr. Larkin’s 
side. The blacksmith caught sight of the novel 
in his customer’s pocket. He snatched it forth. 

“ What you readin’ now, Is? ” he demanded. 
“More blood and brimstone? ‘ Vivy Ann, the 
Shop Girl!’ Gee! Wow!” 

“You gimme that book, Jake Larkin! Gim- 
me it now ! ” 

Fending the frantic quahauger off with one 
mighty arm, the blacksmith proceeded to read 
aloud : 

“ ‘ Darlin’,’ cried Lord Lyndhurst, strainin’ 
the beautiful and blushin’ maid to his manly 
bosom, ‘ you are mine at last. Mine ! No — ’ 
Jerushy ! a love story ! Why, Issy ! I didn’t know 
you was in love. Who’s the lucky girl? Send 
me an invite to your weddin’, won’t you? ” 

Issy’s face was a fiery red. He tore the pre- 
cious volume from its desecrator’s hand, losing the 
pictured cover in the struggle. 

“ You — you pesky fool! ” he shouted. “ You 
mind your own business.” 

The blacksmith roared in glee. “ Oh, ho ! ” 
he cried. “ Issy’s in love and I never guessed it. 
Aw, say, Is, don’t be mean ! Who is she ? Have 
you strained her to your manly bosom yit? 
What’s her name? ” 


348 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


“ Shut up ! ” shrieked Issy, and strode out ^ 
the shop. His tormentor begged him not to “ go 
off mad,” and shouted sarcastic sympathy after 
him. But Mr. McKay heeded not. He stalked 
angrily along the sidewalk. Then espying just 
ahead of him the boys who had thrown the pota- 
toes, he paused, turned, and walking down the 
carriageway at the side of the blacksmith’s place 
of business, sat down upon a sawhorse under one of 
its rear windows. He could, at least, be alone here 
and think; and he wanted to think. 

For Issy — although he didn’t look it — was 
deeply interested in another love story as well as 
that in his pocket. This one was printed upon his 
heart’s pages, and in it he was the hero, while the 
heroine — the unsuspecting heroine — was Gertie 
Higgins, daughter of Beriah Higgins, once a fisher- 
man, now the crotchety and dyspeptic proprietor 
of the “ general store ” and postmaster at East 
Harniss. 

This story began when Issy first acquired the 
Lady May, The Higgins home stood on the slope 
close to the boat landing, and when Issy came in 
from quahauging, Gertie was likely to be in the 
back yard, hanging out the clothes or watering the 
flower garden. Sometimes she spoke to him of 
her own accord, concerning the weather or other 
important topics. Once she even asked him if he 
were going to the Fourth of July ball at the town- 
hall. It took him until the next morning — like 
349 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


other warriors, Issy was cursed with shyness — to 
summon courage enough to ask her to go to 
the ball with him. Then he found it was too 
late ; she was going with her cousin, Lennie 
Bloomer. But he felt that she had offered him the 
opportunity, and was happy and hopeful accord- 
ingly. 

This, however, was before she went to Bos- 
ton to study telegraphy. When she returned, 
with a picture hat and a Boston accent, it was to 
preside at the telegraph instrument in the little 
room adjoining the post office at her father’s store. 
When Issy bowed blushingly outside the window 
of the telegraph room, he received only the airiest 
of frigid nods. Was there what Lord Lyndhurst 
would have called “ another ” ? It would seem 
not. Old Mr. Higgins, her father, encouraged no 
bows nor attentions from young men, and Gertie 
herself did not appear to desire them. So Issy 
gave up his tales of savage butchery for those of 
love and blisses, adored in silence, and hoped — al- 
ways hoped. 

But why had the blacksmith seemed surprised 
at the departure of Sam Bartlett, the “ dudey ” 
vacationist from the city, whose father had, years 
ago, been Beriah Higgins’s partner in the fish busi- 
ness? And why had he coupled the Bartlett name 
with that of Gertie, who had been visiting her 
father’s maiden sister at Trumet, the village next 
below East Harniss, as Denboro is the next above 

350 


ISSY’S REVENGE 

it? Issy’s suspicions were aroused, and he won- 
dered. 

Suddenly he heard voices in the shop above 
him. The window was open and he heard them 
plainly. 

“Well! well!** It was the blacksmith who 
uttered the exclamation. “ Why, Bartlett, how be 
you? What you doin’ over here? Thought 
you’d gone back to Boston. I heard you had.” 

Slowly, cautiously, the astonished quahauger 
rose from the sawhorse and peered over the win- 
dow sill. There were two visitors in the shop. 
One was Ed Burns, proprietor of the Denboro 
Hotel and livery stable. The other was Sam 
Bartlett, the very same who had left East Harniss 
that morning, bound, ostensibly, for Boston. Issy 
sank back again and listened. 

“Yes, yes!” he heard Sam say impatiently; 
“ I know, but — see here, Jake, where can I hire 
a horse in this God-forsaken town? ” 

“Well, well, Sam!” continued Larkin. “I 
was just figurin’ that Beriah had got the best of 
you after all, and you’d had to give it up for this 
time. Thinks I, it’s too bad ! Just because your 
dad and Beriah Higgins had such a deuce of a row 
when they bust up in the fish trade, it’s a shame 
that he won’t hark to your keepin’ comp’ny with 
Gertie. And you doin’ so well; makin’ twenty 
dollars a week up to the city — Ed told me that — 
and ” 


351 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“Yes, yes! But never mind that. Where 
can I get a horse? IVe got to be in Trumet by 
eight to-night sure.” 

“ Trumet? Why, that’s where Gertie is, ain’t 
it?” 

“ Look a-here, Jake,” broke in the livery-stable 
keeper. “ I’ll tell you how ’tis. Oh, it’s all right, 
Sam! Jake knows the most of it; I told him. 
He can keep his mouth shut, and he don’t like old 
crank Higgins any better’n you and me do. Jake, 
Sam here and Gertie had fixed it up to run off and 
git married to-night. He was to pretend to start 
for Boston this mornin’. Bought a ticket and all, 
so’s to throw Beriah off the scent. He was to get 
off the train here at Denboro and I was to let him 
have a horse ’n’ buggy. Then, this afternoon, he 
was goin’ to drive through the wood roads around 
to Trumet and be at the Baptist Church there at 
eight to-night sharp. Gertie’s Aunt Hannah, she’s 
had her orders, and bein’ as big a crank as her 
brother, she don’t let the girl out of her sight. 
But there’s a fair at the church and Auntie’s tendin’ 
a table. Gertie, she steps out to the cloak room 
to git a handkerchief which she’s forgot; see? 
And she hops into Sam’s buggy and away they go 
to the minister’s. After they’re once hitched Old 
Dyspepsy can go to pot and see the kittle bile.” 

“ Bully ! By gum, that’s fine ! Won’t Beriah 
rip some, hey? ” 

“ Yes, but there’s the dickens to pay. I’ve 

352 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


only got two horses in the stable to-day. The rest 
are let. And the two I’ve got — one’s old Bill, and 
he couldn’t go twenty mile to save his hide. And 
t’other’s the gray mare, and blamed if she didn’t 
git cast last night and use up her off hind leg so’s 
she can’t step. And Sam’s got to have a horse. 
Where can I git one? ” 

“ Hum! Have you tried Haynes’s? ” 

“Yes, yes! And Lathrop’s and Eldredge’s. 
Can’t git a team for love nor money.” 

“ Sho ! And he can’t go by train? ” 

“What? With Beriah postmaster at East 
Harniss and always nosin’ through every train that 
stops there? You can’t fetch Trumet by train 
without stoppin’ at East Harniss and — What 
was that? ” 

“ I don’t know. What was it? ” 

“ Sounded like somethin’ outside that back 
winder.” 

The two ran to the window and looked out. 
All they saw was an overturned sawhorse and two 
or three hens scratching vigorously. 

“ Guess ’twas the chickens, most likely,” ob- 
served the blacksmith. Then, striking his black- 
ened palms together, he exclaimed: 

“ By time ! I’ve thought of somethin’ ! Is 
McKay is in town to-day. Come over in the Lady 
May. She’s a gasoline boat. Is would take Sam 
to Trumet for two or three dollars. I’ll bet. And 
he’s such a fool head that he wouldn’t ask ques- 
353 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


tions nor suspicion nothin’. ’Twould be faster’n 
a horse and enough sight less risky.” 

And just then the ” fool head,” his brain whirl- 
ing under its carroty thatch, was hurrying blindly 
up the main street, bound somewhere, he wasn’t 
certain where. 

A mushy apple exploded between his shoulders, 
but he did not even turn around. So this was what 
the blacksmith meant I This was why Mr. Hig- 
gins watched his daughter so closely. This was 
why Gertie had been sent off to Trumet. She had 
met the Bartlett miscreant in Boston; they had 
been together there ; had fallen in love and — He 
gritted his teeth and shook his fists almost in the 
face of old Deacon Pratt, who, knowing the 
McKay penchant for slaughter, had serious 
thoughts of sending for the constable. 

Beriah Higgins must be warned, of course, but 
how? To telegraph was to put Pat Starkey in 
possession of the secret, and Pat was too good a 
friend of Gertie’s to be trusted. There was no 
telephone at the store. Issy entered the combina- 
tion grocery store and post office. 

“ Has the down mail closed yet? ” he panted. 

The postmaster looked out of his little 
window. 

“ Yes,” he replied. “ Why? Got a letter you 
want to go? Take it up to the depot. The train’s 
due, but ’tain’t here yit. If you run you can 
make it.” 


354 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


Issy took a card from his pocket. It was the 
business card of the firm to whom he sold his qua- 
haugs. On the back of the card he wrote in pen- 
cil as follows: 

“ Mr. Beriah Higgins, your daughter Gertrude 
is going to meet Sam’l Bartlett at the Baptist 
Church in Trumet at 8 p.m. to-night and get mar- 
ried to him. LOOKOUT!!!” 

After an instant’s consideration he signed it “ A 
True Friend,” this being in emulation of certain 
heroes of the Deadwood Dick variety. Then he 
put the card into an envelope and ran at top speed 
to the railway station. The train came in as he 
reached the platform. The baggage master was 
standing in the door of his car. 

“ Here, mister ! ” panted Issy. “Jest hand 
this letter to Beriah Higgins when he takes the 
mail bag at East Harniss, won’t you ? It’s mighty 
important. Don’t forgit. Thanks.” 

The train moved off. Issy stared after it, 
grinning malevolently. Higgins would get that 
note in ample time to send word to the watchful 
Aunt Hannah. When the unsuspecting eloper 
reached the Trumet church, it would be the aunt, 
not the niece, who awaited him. Still grinning, 
Mr. McKay walked off the platform, and into the 
arms of Ed Burns, the stable keeper, and Sam Bart- 
lett, his loathed and favored rival. 

“ Here he is ! ” shouted Burns. “ Now we’ve 
got him.” 


355 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


The foiler of the plot turned pale. Was his 
secret discovered ? But no ; his captors began talk- 
ing eagerly, and gradually the sense of their plead- 
ings became plain. They wanted him — him^ of 
all people — to convey Bartlett to Trumet in the 
Lady May, 

“ You see, it’s a business meetin’,” urged 
Burns. Sam’s got to be there by ha’f past seven 
or he’ll — he won’t win on the deal, will you, 
Sam? Say yes, Issy; that’s a good feller. He’ll 
give you — I don’t know’s he won’t give you five 
dollars.” 

“ Ten,” cried Bartlett. “ And I’ll never for- 
get it, either. Will you. Is? ” 

A mighty “ No ! ” was trembling on Issy’s 
tongue. But before it was uttered Burns spoke 
again. 

“ McKay’s got the best boat in these parts,” 
he urged. She’s got a tiptop engine in her, 
and ” 

The word “ engine ” dropped into the whirl- 
pool of Issy’s thoughts with a familiar sound. In 
the chapter of “ Vivian ” that he had just finished, 
the beautiful shopgirl was imprisoned on board 
the yacht of the millionaire kidnaper, while the 
hero, in his own yacht, was miles astern. But the 
hero’s faithful friend, disguised as a stoker, was 
tampering with the villain’s engine. A vague idea 
began to form in Issy’s brain. Once get the 
would-be eloper aboard the Lady May, and, even 

356 


ISSY’S REVENGE 

though the warning note should remain undeliv- 
ered, he 

Issy smiled, and the ghastliness of that smile 
was unnoticed by his companions. 

“ I— ril do it,” he cried. “ By mighty! I 
will do it. You be at the wharf here at four 
o’clock. I wouldn’t do it for everybody, Sam 
Bartlett, but for you I’d do consider’ble, just now. 
And I don’t want your ten dollars nuther.” 

Doctoring an engine may be easy enough — in 
stories. But to doctor a gasoline engine so that it 
will run for a certain length of time and then break 
down is not so easy. Three o’clock came and the 
problem was still unsolved. Issy, the perspiration 
running down his face, stood up in the Lady May^s 
cockpit and looked out across the bay, smooth and 
glassy in the afternoon sun. 

The sky overhead was clear and blue, but 
along the eastern and southern horizon was a gray 
bank of cloud, heaped in tumbled masses. 

A sunburned lobsterman in rubber boots and 
a sou’wester was smoking on the wharf. 

“ What time you goin’ to start for home, Is? ” 
he asked. 

“ Oh, in an hour or so,” was the absent-minded 
reply. 

“ Humph ! You’d better cast off afore that 
or you’ll be fog bound. It’ll be thicker’n dock 
mud toward sundown, and you’ll fetch up in Wap- 
357 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


tomac ’stead of East Harniss, ’thout you’ve got a 
good compass.” 

“ Oh, my compass is all right,” began Issy, and 
stopped . short. The lobsterman made other at- 
tempts at conversation, but they were unproduc- 
tive. McKay was gazing at the growing fog bank 
and thinking hard. To doctor an engine may be 
difficult, but to get lost in a fog — He took the 
compass from the glass-lidded binnacle by the 
wheel, and carrying it into the little cabin, placed 
it in the cuddy forward. 

It was nearer five than four when the Lady 
May, her engine barking aggressively, moved out 
of Denboro Harbor. Mr. Bartlett, the passenger, 
had been on time and had fumed and fretted at 
the delay. But Issy was deliberation itself. He 
had forgotten his quahaug rake, and the lapse of 
memory entailed a trip to the blacksmith’s. Then 
the gasoline tank needed filling and the battery had 
to be overhauled. 

“ Are you sure you can make it ? ” queried Sam 
anxiously. “ It’s important, I tell you. Mighty 
important.” 

The skipper snorted in disgust. “ Make it? ” 
he repeated. “ If the Lady May can’t make four- 
teen mile in two hours — let alone two’n a ha’f — 
then I don’t know her. She’s one of them boats 
you read about, she is.” 

The Cape makes a wide bend between Denboro 
and Trumet. The distance between these towns 

358 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


is twenty long, curved miles over the road; by wa- 
ter it is reduced to a straight fourteen. And mid- 
way between the two, at the center of the curve, is 
East Harniss. 

The Lady May coughed briskly on. There 
was no sea, and she sent long, widening ripples 
from each side of her bow. Bartlett, leaning over 
the rail, gazed impatiently ahead. Issy, sprawled 
on the bench by the wheel, was muttering to him- 
self. Occasionally he glanced toward the east. The 
gray fog bank was now half way to the zenith and 
approaching rapidly. The eastern shore had dis- 
appeared. 

“Is! Hi, Is! What are you doing? Don’t 
kill him before my eyes.” 

Issy came out of his trance with a start. 

“What — ^what’s that?” he asked. His pas- 
senger was grinning broadly. 

“What? Kill who?” 

“ Why, the big chief, or whoever you had un- 
der your knee just then. You’ve been rolling your 
eyes and punching air with your fist for the last 
five minutes. I was getting scared. You’re an 
unmerciful sinner when you get started, ain’t you. 
Is? Who was the victim that time? ‘Man 
Afraid of Hot Water ’? or who? ” 

The skipper scowled. He shoved the fist into 
his pocket. 

“ Naw,” he growled. “ ’Twa’n’t.” 

“ So? Not an Indian? Then it must have 

359 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


been a white man. Some fellow after your girl, 
perhaps. Hey?” 

The disconcerted Issy was speechless. His 
companion’s chance shot had scored a bull’s-eye. 
Sam whooped. 

“That’s it!” he crowed. “Sure thing! 
Give it to him, Is! Don’t spare him.” 

Mr. McKay chokingly admitted that he 
“ wa’n’t goin’ to.” 

“ Ho, ho! That’s the stuff! But who’s she, 
Is? When are you going to marry her? ” 

Issy grunted spitefully. “You ain’t married 
yourself — not yit,” he observed, with concealed 
sarcasm. 

The unsuspecting Bartlett laughed in triumph. 
“ No,” he said. “ I’m not, that’s a fact; but may- 
be I’m going to be some of these days. It looked 
pretty dubious for a while, but now it’s all right.” 

“ ’Tis, hey? You’re sure about that, be you? ” 

“Guess I am. Great Scott! what’s that? 
Fog?” 

A damp breath blew across the boat. The 
clouds covered the sky overhead and the bay to 
port. The fog was pouring like smoke across the 
w^ater. 

“ Fog, by thunder! ” exclaimed Bartlett. 

Issy smiled. “ Hum ! Yes, ’tis fog, ain’t it? ” 
he observed. 

“ But what’ll we do? It’ll be here a min- 
ute, won’t it? ” 


360 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


“ Shouldn’t be a mite surprised. Looks ’s if 
’twas here now.” 

The fog came on. It reached the Lady May, 
passed over her, and shut her within gray, wet 
walls. It was impossible to see a length from her 
side. Sam swore emphatically. The skipper 
was provokingly calm. He stepped to the en- 
gine, bent over it, and then returned to the 
wheel. 

“ What are you doing? ” demanded Bartlett. 

“ Slowin’ down, of course. Can’t run more’n 
ha’f speed in a fog like this. ’Tain’t safe.” 

“ Safe! What do I care? I want to get to 
Trumet.” 

“Yes? Well, maybe we’ll git there if we have 
luck.” 

“ You idiot! We’ve got to get there. How 
can you tell which way to steer? Get your com- 
pass, man ! get your compass ! ” 

“ Ain’t got no compass,” was the sulky answer. 
“ Left it to home.” 

“ Why, no, you didn’t. I ” 

“ I tell you I did. ’Twas careless of me, I 
know, but ” 

“ But I say you didn’t. When you went up- 
town after that quahaug rake I explored this craft 
of yours some. The compass is in that little closet 
at the end of the cabin. I’ll get it.” 

He rose to his feet. Issy sprang forward and 
seized him by the arm. 

24 361 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Set down ! ” he yelled. “ Who’s runnin’ this 
boat, you or me? ” 

The astounded passenger stared at his com- 
panion. 

“ Why, you are,” he replied. “ But that’s no 
reason — What’s the matter with you, anyway? 
Have your dime novels driven you loony? ” 

Issy hesitated. For a moment chagrin and 
rage at this sudden upset of his schemes had gotten 
the better of his prudence. But Bartlett was taller 
than he and broad in proportion. And valor — 
except of the imaginative brand — was not Issy’s 
strong point. 

“There, there, Sam!” he explained, smiling 
crookedly. “ You mustn’t mind me. I’m sort of 
nervous, I guess. And you mustn’t hop up and 
down in a boat that way. You set still and I’ll 
fetch the compass.” 

He stumbled across the cockpit and disap- 
peared in the dusk of the cabin. Finding that 
compass took a long time. Sam lost patience. 

“ What’s the matter? ” he demanded. “ Can’t 
you find it? Shall I come? ” 

“ No, no ! ” screamed Issy vehemently. “ Stay 
where you be. Catch a-holt of that wheel. We’ll 
be spinnin’ circles if you don’t. I’m a-comin’.” 

But it w^as another five minutes before he 
emerged from the cabin, carrying the compass box 
very carefully with both hands. He placed it in 
the binnacle and closed the glass lid. 

362 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


“ ’Twas catched in a bluefish line,” he ex- 
plained. “ All snarled up, ’twas.” 

Sam peered through the glass at the com- 
pass. 

“Thunder!” he exclaimed. “I should say 
we had spun around. Instead of north being off 
here where I thought it was, it’s ’way out to the 
right. Queer how fog’ll mix a fellow up. Trum- 
et’s about northeast, isn’t it? ” 

“ No’theast by no’th’s the course. Keep her 
just there.” 

The Lady May^ still at half speed, kept on 
through the mist. Time passed. The twilight, 
made darker still by the fog, deepened. They lit 
the lantern in order to see the compass card. Issy 
had the wheel now. Sam was forward, keeping a 
lookout and fretting at the delay. 

“ It’s seven o’clock already,” he cried. “ For 
Heaven’s sake, how late will you be? I’ve got to 
be there by quarter of eight. D’you hear? I’ve 
got to.” 

“ Well, we’re gittin’ there. Can’t expect to 
travel so fast with part of the power off. You’ll 
be where you’re goin’ full as soon as you want to 
be, I cal’late.” 

And he chuckled. 

Another half hour and, through the wet dim- 
ness, a light flashed, vanished, and flashed again. 
Issy saw it and smiled grimly. Bartlett saw it and 
shouted. 


363 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“What’s that light?” he cried. “Did you 
see it? There it is, off there.” 

“ I see it. There’s a light at Trumet Neck, 
ain’t there? ” 

“ Humph I It’s been years since I was there, 
but I thought Trumet light was steady. How- 


“ Ain’t that the wharf ahead? ” 

Sure enough, out of the dark loomed the bulk 
of a small wharf, with catboats at anchor near it. 
Higher up, somewhere on the shore, were the 
lighted windows of a building. 

“ By thunder, we’re here I ” ejcclaimed Sam, 
and drew a long breath. 

Issy shut off the power altogether, and the 
Lady May slid easily up to the wharf. Fever- 
ishly her skipper made her fast. 

“Yes, sir!” he cried exultantly. “We’re 
here. And no Black Rover nor anybody else ever 
done a better piece of steerin’ than that, nuther.” 

He clambered over the stringpiece, right at 
the heels of his impatient but grateful passenger. 
Sam’s thanks were profuse and sincere. 

“ I’ll never forget it. Is,” he declared. “ I’ll 
never forget it. And you’ll have to let me pay 
you the — What makes you shake so? ” 

Issy pulled his arm away and stepped back. 

“ I’ll never forget it. Is,” continued Sam. 
“I_ Why! What ?” 

He was standing at the shore end of the wharf, 

364 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


gazing up at the lighted windows. They were 
those of a dwelling house — an old-fashioned house 
with a back yard sloping down to the landing. 

And then Issy McKay leaned forward and 
spoke in his ear. 

“ You bet you won’t forgit it, Sam Bartlett! ” 
he crowed, in trembling but delicious triumph. 
“ You bet you won’t I I’ve fixed you just the same 
as the Black Rover fixed the mutineers. Run off 
with my girl, will ye? And marry her, will ye? 
I ” 

Sam interrupted him. “Why! Why!^^ he 
cried. “ That’s — that’s Gertie’s house ! This 
isn’t Trumet ! Ifs East H amiss! ” 

The next moment he was seized from behind. 
The skipper’s arms were around his waist and the 
skipper’s thin legs twisted about his own. They 
fell together upon the sand and, as they rolled 
and struggled, Issy’s yells rose loud and high. 

“Mr. Higgins!” he shrieked. “Mr. Hig- 
gins! Come on! I’ve got him! I’ve got the 
feller that’s tryin’ to steal your daughter! Come 
on ! I’ve got him ! I’m bangin’ to him ! ” 

A door banged open. Some one rushed down 
the walk. And then a girl’s voice cried in 
alarm : 

“ What is it? Who is it? What is the mat- 
ter? 

And from the bundle of legs and arms on the 
ground two voices exclaimed: “ Gertie! 

365 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“But where is your father?” asked Sam. 
Issy asked nothing. He merely sat still and lis- 
tened. 

“ Why, he’s at Trumet. At least I suppose 
he is. Mrs. Jones — she’s gone to telephone to him 
now — says that he came home this morning with 
one of those dreadful ‘ attacks ’ of his. And after 
dinner he seemed so sick that, when she went for 
the doctor, she wired me at Auntie’s to come home. 
I didn’t want to come — you know why — but I 
couldn^t let him die alone. And so I caught the 
three o’clock train and came. I knew you’d for- 
give me. But it seems that when Mrs. Jones came 
back with the doctor they found father up and 
dressed and storming like a crazy man. He had 
received some sort of a letter; he wouldn’t say 
what. And, in spite of all they could do, he in- 
sisted on going out. And Cap’n Berry — the de- 
pot master — says he went to Trumet on the after- 
noon freight. We must have passed each other 
on the way. And I’m so — But why are you 
here? And what were you and Issy doing? 
And ” 

Her lover broke in eagerly. “ Then you’re 
alone now? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, but ” 

“ Good! Your father can’t get a train back 
from Trumet before to-morrow morning. I don’t 
know what this letter was — ^but never mind. Per- 
haps friend McKay knows more about it. It may 
366 


ISSY’S REVENGE 


be that Mr. Higgins is waiting now outside the 
Baptist church. Gertie, now’s our chance. You 
come with me right up to the minister’s. He’s a 
friend of mine. He understands. He’ll marry 
us, I know. Come! We mustn’t lose a minute. 
Your dad may take a notion to drive back.” 

He led her off up the lane, she protesting, he 
urging. At the corner of the house he turned. 

“ I say. Is ! ” he called. “ Don’t you want to 
come to the wedding? Seems to me we owe you 
that, considering all you’ve done to help it along. 
Or perhaps you want to stay and fix that compass 
of yours.” 

Issy didn’t answer. Some time after they had 
gone he arose from the ground and stumbled home. 
That night he put a paper novel into the stove. 
Next morning, before going to the depot, he re- 
moved an iron spike from the Lady May^s com- 
pass box. The needle swung back to its proper 
position. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMEl 

T he eleventh of July. The little Berry 
house stood high on its joists and rollers, 
in the middle of the Hill Boulevard, di- 
rectly opposite the Edwards lot. Close behind it 
loomed the big “ Colonial.” Another twenty-four 
hours, and, even at its one-horse gait, the depot 
master’s dwelling would be beyond the strip of Ed- 
wards fence. The “ Colonial ” would be ready to 
move on the lot, and Olive Edwards, the widow, 
would be obliged to leave her home. In fact, Mr. 
Williams had notified her that she and her few be- 
longings must be off the premises by the afternoon 
of the twelfth. 

The great Williams was in high good-humor. 
He chuckled as he talked with his foreman, and 
the foreman chuckled in return. Simeon Phinney 
did not chuckle. He was anxious and worried, and 
even the news of Gertie Higgins’s runaway mar- 
riage, brought to him by Obed Gott, who — having 
been so recently the victim of another unexpected 
matrimonial alliance — was wickedly happy . over 
368 


THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET 


the postmaster’s discomfiture, did not interest him 
greatly. 

“ Well, I wonder who’ll be the next couple,” 
speculated Obed. “ First Polena and old Hardee, 
then Gertie Higgins and Sam Bartlett ! I declare, 
Sim, gettin’ married unbeknownst to anybody must 
be catchin’, like the measles. Nobody’s safe un- 
less they’ve got a wife or husband livin’. Me and 
Sol Berry are old baches — we’d better get vacci- 
nated or we may come down with the disease. 
Ho! ho!” 

After dinner Mr. Phinney went from his home 
to the depot. Captain Sol was sitting in the ticket 
office, with the door shut. On the platform, for- 
lornly sprawled upon the baggage truck, was Issy 
McKay, the picture of desolation. He started 
nervously when he heard Simeon’s step. As yet 
Issy’s part in the Bartlett-Higgins episode was un- 
known to the townspeople. Sam and Gertie had 
considerately kept silence. Beriah had not learned 
who sent him the warning note, the unlucky 
missive which had brought his troubles to a cli- 
max. But he was bound to learn it, he would 
find out soon, and then — No wonder Issy 
groaned. 

“ Come in here, Sim,” said the depot master. 
Phinney entered the ticket office. 

“ Shut the door,” commanded the Captain. 
The order was obeyed. “ Well, what is it? ” asked 
Berry. 


369 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Why, I just run in to see you a minute, Sol, 
that’s all. What are you shut up in here all alone 
for?” 

“ ’Cause I want to be alone. There’s been 
more than a thousand folks in this depot so far 
to-day, seems so, and they all wanted to talk. I 
don’t feel like talkin’.” 

“ Heard about Gertie Higgins and ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Who told you?” 

“ Hiram Baker told me first. He’s a fine feller 
and he’s so tickled, now that his youngster’s ’most 
well, that he cruises around spoutin’ talk and joy 
same as a steamer’s stack spouts cinders. He told 
me. Then Obed Gott and Cornelius Rowe and 
Redny Blount and Pat Starkey, and land knows 
how many more, came to tell me. I cut ’em short. 
Why, even the Major himself condescended to 
march in, grand and imposin’ as a procession, to 
make proclamations about love laughin’ at lock- 
smiths, and so on. Since he got Polena and her 
bank account he’s a bigger man than the President, 
in his own estimate.” 

“ Humph! Well, he better make the best of it 
while it lasts. P’lena ain’t Hetty Green, and her 
money won’t hold out forever.” 

“ That’s a fact. Still Polena’s got sense. 
She’ll hold Hardee in check, I cal’late. I wouldn’t 
wonder if it ended by her bossin’ things and the 
Major actin’ as a sort of pet poodle dog — nice and 

370 


THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET 


pretty to walk out with, but always kept at the end 
of a string.” 

“ You didn’t go to Higgins’s for dinner to-day, 
did you? ” 

“ No. Nor I shan’t go for supper. Beriah’s 
bad enough when he’s got nothin’ the matter 
with him but dyspepsy. Now that his sufferin’s are 
complicated with elopements, I don’t want to eat 
with him.” 

‘‘ Come and have supper with us.” 

“ I guess not, thank you, Sim. I’ll get some 
crackers and cheese and such at the store. I — I 
ain’t very hungry these days.” 

He turned his head and looked out of the win- 
dow. Simeon fidgeted. 

“ Sol,” he said, after a pause, “ we’ll be past 
Olive’s by to-morrer night.” 

No answer. Sim repeated his remark. 

“ I know it,” was the short reply. 

‘‘ Yes — yes, I s’posed you did, but ” 

“ Sim, don’t bother me now. This is my last 
day here at the depot, and I’ve got things to do.” 

Your last day? Why, what ? ” 

Captain Sol told briefly of his resignation and 
of the coming of the new depot master. 

“ But you givin’ up your job I ” gasped Phin- 
ney. “ You! Why, what for? ” 

“ For instance, I guess. I ain’t dependent on 
the wages, and I’m sick of the whole thing.” . 

“ But what’ll you do? ” 

371 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ Don’t know.” 

“You — you won’t leave town, will you? 
Lawsy mercy, I hope not! ” 

“ Don’t know. Maybe I’ll know better by and 
by. I’ve got to think things out. Run along now, 
like a good feller. Don’t say nothin’ about my 
quittin’. All hands’ll know it to-morrow, and 
that’s soon enough.” 

Simeon departed, his brain in a whirl. Captain 
Solomon Berry no longer depot master! The 
world must be coming to an end. 

He remained at his work until supper time. 
During the meal he ate and said so little that his 
wife wondered and asked questions. To avoid an- 
swering them he hurried out. When he returned, 
about ten o’clock, he was a changed man. His 
eyes shone and he fairly danced with excitement. 

“ Emeline ! ” he shouted, as he burst into the 
sitting room. “ What do you think? I’ve got the 
everlastin’est news to tell ! ” 

“Good or bad?” asked the practical Mrs. 
Phinney. 

“ Good ! So good that — There I let me 
tell you. When I left here I went down to the 
store and hung around till the mail was sorted. 
Pat Starkey was doin’ the sortin’, Beriah bein’ too 
upsot by Gertie’s gettin’ married to attend to any- 
thing. Pat called me to the mail window and 
handed me a letter. 

It’s for Olive Edwards,’ he says. ‘ She’s 

372 





‘“Did he — did he — do that for me 


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THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET 


been expectin’ one for a consider’ble spell, she told 
me, and maybe this is it. P’r’aps you’d just as 
soon go round by her shop and leave it.’ 

“ I took the letter and looked at it. Up in one 
corner was the printed name of an Omaha firm. 
I never said nothin’, but I sartinly hustled on my 
way up the hill. 

“ Olive was in her little settin’ room back of 
the shop. She was pretty pale, and her eyes looked 
as if she hadn’t been doin’ much sleepin’ lately. 
Likewise I noticed — and it give me a queer feelin’ 
inside — that her trunk was standin’, partly packed, 
in the corner.” 

“ The poor woman ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Phin- 

ney. 

“Yes,” went on her husband. “Well, I 
handed over the letter and started to go, but she 
told me to set down and rest, ’cause I was so out 
of breath. To tell you the truth, I was crazy to 
find out what was in that envelope and, being as 
she’d give me the excuse, I set. 

“ She took the letter over to the lamp and 
looked at it for much as a minute, as if she was 
afraid to open it. But at last, and with her fingers 
shakin’ like the palsy, she fetched a long breath 
and tore off the end of the envelope. It was a 
pretty long letter, and she read it through. I see 
her face gettin’ whiter and whiter and, when she 
reached the bottom of the last page, the letter fell 
onto the floor. Down went her head on her arms, 
373 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


and she cried as if her heart would break. I never 
felt so sorry for anybody in my life. 

“ ‘ Don’t, Mrs. Edwards,’ I says. ‘ Please 
don’t. That cousin of yours is a darn ungrateful 
scamp, and Pd like to have my claws on his neck 
this minute.’ 

“ She never even asked me how I knew about 
the cousin. She was too much upset for that. 

“‘Oh! oh I’ she sobs. ‘What shall I do? 
Where shall I go? I haven’t got a friend in the 
world 1 ’ 

“ I couldn’t stand that. I went acrost and laid 
my hand on her shoulder. 

“ ‘ Mrs. Edwards,’ says I, ‘ you mustn’t say 
that. You’ve got lots of friends. Pm your 
friend. Mr. Hilton’s your friend. Yes, and 
there’s another, the best friend of all. If it 
weren’t for him, you’d have been turned out into 
the street long before this.’ ” 

Mrs. Phinney nodded. “ Pm glad you told 
her! ” she exclaimed. “ She’d ought to know.” 

“ That’s what I thought,” said Sim-eon. 

“ Well, she raised her head then and looked 
at me. 

“ ‘ You mean Mr. Williams? ’ she asks. 

“ That riled me up. ‘ Williams nothin’ ! ’ says 
I. ‘ Williams let you stay here ’cause he could 
just as well as not. If he’d known that this other 
friend was keepin’ him from gettin’ here, just on 
your account, he’d have chucked you to glory, 
374 


THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET 


promise or no promise. But this friend, this real 
friend, he don’t count cost, nor trouble, nor in- 
convenience. Hikes his house — the house he lives 
in — right out into the road, moves it to a place 

where he don’t want to go, and ’ 

‘ Mr. Phinney,’ she sighs out, ‘ what do you 
mean ? ’ 

“ And then I told her. She listened without 
sayin’ a word, but her eyes kept gettin’ brighter 
and brighter and she breathed short. 

“‘Oh!’ she says, when I’d finished. ‘Did 
he — did he — do that for me?* 

“ ‘ You bet I ’ says I. ‘ He didn’t tell me what 
he was doin’ it for — that ain’t Sol’s style; but I’m 
arlthmetiker enough to put two and two together 
and make four. He did it for you, you can bet 
your last red on that.’ 

“ She stood up. ‘ Oh I ’ she breathes. ‘ I — I 
must go and thank him. I ’ 

“ But, knowin’ Sol, I was afraid. Fust place, 
there was no tellln’ how he’d act, and, besides, he 
might not take It kindly that I’d told her. 

“ ‘ Wait a jiffy,’ I says. ‘ I’ll go out and see 
if he’s home. You stay here. I’ll be back right 
off.’ 

“ Out I put, and over to the Berry house, 
standin’ on its rollers in the middle of the Boule- 
vard. And, just as I got to It, somebody says : 

“ ‘ Ahoy, Sim! What’s the hurry? Anybody 
on fire? ’ 


375 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


“ ’Twas the Cap’n himself, settin’ on a pile of 
movin’ joist and smokin’ as usual. I didn’t waste 
no time. 

“ ‘ Sol,’ says I, ‘ I’ve just come from Olive’s. 
She’s got that letter from the Omaha man. Poor 
thing ! all alone there ’ 

“He interrupted me sharp. ‘Well?’ he 
snaps. ‘ What’s it say? Will the cousin help her? ’ 

“ ‘ No,’ I says, ‘ drat him, he won’t! ’ 

“ The answer I got surprised me more’n any- 
thing I ever heard or ever will hear. 

“‘Thank God!’ says Sol Berry. ‘That 
settles it.’ 

“ And I swan to man if he didn’t climb down 
off them timbers and march straight across the 
street, over to the door of Olive Edwards’s home, 
open it, and go in ! I leaned against the joist he’d 
left, and swabbed my forehead with my sleeve.” 

“ He went to her! ” gasped Mrs. Phinney. 

“ Wait,” continued her husband. “ I must 
have stood there twenty minutes when I heard 
somebody hurryin’ down the Boulevard. ’Twas 
Cornelius Rowe, all red-faced and het up, but 
bu’stin’ with news. 

“ ‘ ’Lo, Sim ! ’ says he to me. ‘ Is Cap’n Sol 
home ? Does he know ? ’ 

“ ‘ Know? Know what? ” says I. 

“ ‘ Why, the trick Mr. Williams put up on 
him? Hey? You ain’t heard? Well, Mr. Wil- 
liams’s fixed him nice, he has ! Seems Abner Payne 

376 


THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET 


hadn’t answered Sol’s letter tellin’ him he’d accept 
the offer to swap lots, and Williams went up to 
Wareham where Payne’s been stayin’ and offered 
him a thumpin’ price for the land on Main Street, 
and took it. The deed’s all made out. Cap’n 
Sol can’t move where he was goin’ to, and he’s left 
with his house on the town, as you might say. 
Ain’t it a joke, though? Where is Sol? I want 
to be the fust to tell him and see how he acts. Is 
he to home ? ’ 

“ I was shook pretty nigh to pieces, but I had 
some sense left. 

“ ‘ No, he ain’t,’ says I. ‘ I see him go up 
street a spell ago;’ ” 

“ Why, Simeon ! ” interrupted Mrs. Phinney 
once more. “Was that true? How could you 
see him when ” 

“Be still! S’pose I was goin’ to tell him 
where Sol had gone? I’d have lied myself blue 
fust. However, Cornelius was satisfied. 

“‘That so?’ he grunts. ‘By jings! I’m 
goin’ to find him.’ 

“ Off he went, and the next thing I knew the 
Edwards door opened, and I heard somebody call- 
in’ my name. I went acrost, walkin’ in a kind of 
daze, and there, in the doorway, with the lamp 
shinin’ on ’em, was Cap’n Sol and Olive. The 
tears was wet on her cheeks, but she was smilin’ 
in a kind of shy, half-believin’ sort of way, and 
as for Sol, he was one broad, satisfied grin. 

377 


25 


THE DEPOT MASTER 

“ ‘ Cap’n,’ I begun, ‘ I just heard the everlast- 
in’est news that ’ 

“ ‘ Shut up, Sim ! ’ he orders, cheerful. 
‘ You’ve been a mighty good friend to both of us, 
and I want you to be the fust to shake hands.’ 

“ ‘ Shake hands? ’ I stammers, lookin’ at ’em. 

* What? You don’t mean ’ 

“ ‘ I mean shake hands. Don’t you want to? ’ 
** Want to ! I give ’em both one more look, 
and then we shook, up to the elbows ; and my grin 
had the Cap’n’s beat holler. 

“ ‘ Sim,’ he says, after I’d cackled a few min- 
utes, ‘ I cal’late maybe that white horse is well by 
this time. P’r’aps we might move a little faster. 
I’m kind of anxious to get to Main Street.’ 

“ Then I remembered. ‘ Great gosh all fish- 
hooks! ’ I sings out. ‘ Main Street? Why, there 
ain^t no Main Street! ’ 

“ And I gives ’em Cornelius’s news. The 
widow’s smile faded out. 

“ ‘ Oh ! ’ says she. ‘ O Solomon ! And I 
got you into all this trouble ! ’ 

“ Cap’n Sol didn’t stop grinnin’, but he 
scratched his head. ‘Huh!’ says he. ‘Mark 
one up for King Williams the Great. Humph! ’ 

“ He thought for a minute and then he 
laughed out loud. ‘ Olive,’ he says, ‘ if I remem- 
ber right, you and I always figgered to live on 
the Shore Road. It’s the best site in town. Sim, 
I guess if that white horse is well, you can move 

378 


THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET 


that shanty of mine right to Cross Street, down 
that, and back along the Shore Road to the place 
where it come from. That land’s mine yet,’ 
says he. 

“If that wa’n’t him all over! I couldn’t 
think what to say, except that folks would laugh 
some, I cal’lated. 

“ ‘ Not at us, they won’t,’ says he. * We’ll 
Clear out till the laughin’ is over. Olive, to-mor- 
rer mornin' we’ll call on Parson Hilton and then 
take the ten o’clock train. I feel’s if a trip to 
Washin’ton would be about right just now.’ 

“ She started and blushed and then looked up 
into his face. ‘ Solomon,’ she says, low, ‘ I really 
would like to go to Niagara.’ 

“ He shook his head. ‘ Old lady,’ says he, ‘ I 
guess you don’t quite understand this thing. See 
here ’ — p’intin’ to his house loomin’ big and black 
in the roadway — ‘ see 1 the mountain has come to 
Mahomet.’ ” 

Mrs. Phinney had heard enough. She sprang 
from her chair and seized her husband’s hands. 

“Splendid!” she cried, her face beaming. 
“ Oh, ain^t it lovely ! Ain’t you glad for ’em, 
Simeon? ” 

“Glad! Say, Emeline; there’s some of that 
wild-cherry bounce down cellar, ain’t there ? Let’s 
break our teetotalism for once and drink a glass to 
Cap’n and Mrs. Solomon Berry. Jerushy! I got 
to do somethin* to celebrate.” 

379 


THE DEPOT MASTER 


On the Elill Boulevard the summer wind 
stirred the silverleaf poplars. The thick, black 
shadows along the sidewalks were heavy with the 
perfume of flowers. Captain Sol, ex-depot master 
of East Harniss, strolled on in the dark, under the 
stars, his hands in his pockets, and in his heart 
happiness complete and absolute. 

Behind him twinkled the lamp in the window 
of the Edwards house, so soon to be torn down. 
Before him, over the barberry hedge, blazed the 
windows of the mansion the owner of which was 
responsible for it all. The windows were open, 
and through them sounded the voices of the mighty 
Ogden Hapworth Williams and his wife, engaged 
in a lively altercation. It was an open secret that 
their married life was anything but peaceful. 

“What are you grumbling about now?” de- 
manded Williams. “ Don’t I give you more 
money than ” 

“ Nonsense ! ” sneered Mrs. Williams, in 
scornful derision. “ Nonsense, I say ! Money is 
all there is to you, Ogden. In other things, the 
real things of this world, those you can’t buy with 
money, you’re a perfect imbecile. You know noth- 
ing whatever about them.” 

Captain SoL alone on the walk by the hedge, 
glanced in the direction of the shrill voice, then 
back at the lamp in Olive’s window. And he 
laughed aloud. 


THE END 


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